When Flames Die Down
by MockingjayKtns
Summary: Katniss has returned to District 12 after the war. But many things have changed and the circumstances are different now that Prim has been removed from her life. Can Katniss rebuild her life with the broken people around her, or does she stay shattered in depression? Before the Epilogue during Mockingjay. Everllark/surprise character reappearances. Please favorite, review & follow!
1. Prologue

Prologue

Self-pity. That's what every Victor shares. If they are still alive. The thought amuses me as I stare into the flames in the fireplace. The blaze licks at the bricks hungrily as it engulfs the fresh log Greasy Sae had placed only a few moments ago.

Or was that a few hours?

I don't know how long I've been sitting in the rocking chair of my Victor's Village home. Ever since I returned from District 13? I don't even know what day it is. I'd forgotten what day it was ever since I went into the first damn Arena.

The thought of the Arena brings back an unbearable flood of memories. I curl up under the blanket that Sae had thrown over my shoulders, hoping to stem off the memories but they come back even stronger than before- Prim's name being drawn, the Bloodbath, the Careers, Rue, the cave...

Peeta.

I hardly realize I'm crying until I hear a strangled sob and register that it is mine. I can feel my fingers tremble as they clutch the blanket tighter, as if it was the only thing holding me to sanity. Peeta was still in the Capitol. The doctors of District 13 had agreed that with the Capitol's medical advances, they would be able to treat Peeta's hijacking more effectively. Haymitch agreed immediately to the transfer of Peeta's custody to the new Capitol, ruled by Paylor after I had killed Coin.

My goodbye with Peeta was brief. I knew he'd be gone for a long time. Perhaps he'd never come back to me and move on. I originally decided to let him go, that it was for the best if he didn't see me so he wouldn't trigger the venom. But it seemed like a twist of fate when I walked out from my room in 13 to find an armed escort flanking the one person I tried so hard to avoid.

Peeta didn't seem surprised when I didn't say anything for a long awkward moment. He didn't question the way I was staring at his face as if he'd grown another head or was wearing some sort of odd Capitol style.

Instead, he had pulled me into a tight embrace, his strong arms wrapping around me. My body stiffened out of instinct, preparing for the venom to seize him at our close proximity, but instead I felt the sobs begin to wrack his body and I knew I couldn't deny him anything. He was my boy with the bread. With his head buried in my hair, which I had worn down that morning, I could just barely make out his whispers. "I'm sorry," he kept repeating over and over as I lifted my hand to stroke his soft hair.

Neither of us wanted to be the first to pull away, but after a few minutes and the sound of the armed escort clearing his throat, we both reluctantly let go. I really didn't want Peeta to go. But he needed to get better. He deserved it. My hand was on his cheek and his eyes were a deep blue, filled with sadness.

"I'll come back to you, Katniss." My only reply was to hold back the tears threatening to spill over.

I wordlessly caressed his cheek gently before dropping my hand to my pocket. My fingers wrapped around the cool metal as I lift my Mockingjay pin to his chest and pin it to the gray cotton of his shirt. "To protect you."

As the armed escort pulled him away, my chest tightened. He paused to look back over his shoulder once, then walked out of my life.

Haymitch found me on the floor where my knees had given out, sobbing uncontrollably, and helped me back into my room to prepare for our return to 12. I didn't have to even say anything as he handed his silver flask to me wordlessly.

Needless to say, my return to 12 was uneventful. Haymitch led me off the train, arm wrapped protectively over my shoulders as he snarled at anyone who got close or shouted to get the Mockingjay's attention, but all I was thinking about was how I wanted Peeta's arm to be wrapped around my waist instead and the devastated look in his eyes in 13.

The first thing I register when we arrive at my house in Victor's Village is a mottled, mashed-up blob of orange fur on my doorstep. Haymitch could barely stem my rage as I flew at Buttercup, intent on drowning the damn thing for sure this time.

"Why are you even still alive, you stupid thing," I had screamed as Buttercup hissed at me, holding his ground on the doormat with raised hackles. "Its _her _that should be alive! Not you!"

Luckily, Haymitch stepped in and threw his empty liquor bottle at Buttercup, effectively sending the mangy cat scrambling around the side of the house. But not before the memories of my Prim sent me crumpled to the ground in guilt and mourning.

Ever since then, Sae has been coming to take care of me. I know I am perfectly capable of cooking my own meals and doing my own laundry, but Sae comes over anyways, insisting its not a problem for her at all. When she teasingly said it was because she missed the fresh game I would bring to her at the Hob, I had turned away in silence. She dropped the topic after that.

I know that Haymitch was the one that asked her to check on me every day and I'm not surprised when he leaves me a bottle of white liquor every night on my kitchen table. "For the nightmares," he said curtly when I asked him once. Even now when we're both broken and alone, my mentor is still looking out for me.

But I don't drink it. Sae puts the bottles in a box and stores it under the sink in the kitchen as I go to bed every night, only to find sleepless nights or dark restless sleep. The screams have gotten worse, according to Haymitch, but what could I possibly do to make them stop?

Such is the life of a Victor. If the Capitol didn't take your life first...


	2. Chapter 1: Ashes

Chapter 1: Ashes

The meadow. Its lush green grasses and bright flowers sway lightly in the gentle breeze. Gale is to my left, and he is smiling to himself as he stares at the stem of grass he toys with in his hands. To my right, Rue, staring at the trees off to the side of the meadow where Mockingjays come out to sing. She sings softly to them and they don't hesitate to take up her tune.

I'm happy. Content. Somehow I feel safe and warm.

I see Prim, then, as she bounds over the top of the hill, laughing. My sweet sister, her blond hair in two braids and that stupid cat scampering after her through the plants.

I reach out my arms as she approaches, her eyes shining and her laugh resonating, blending with Rue's song and Gale's soft chuckle. This moment couldn't be happier for me.

When she bursts into flames.

I scream instantly, but the most horrible sound comes from Prim, who shrieks in agony. "Katniss!" I instantly push myself to my knees, ready to spring over to her, to try and extinguish the flames that surround her thin form, to do _something._

_"Prim!" _I am about to leap for her when a sickening sound brings my attention to my right. Its Rue, the four foot long spear of the District 1's boy buried directly in her heart. Blood splashed from the wound, landing on my face, my arms... I recoil sharply, trying to get away from the sticky salty spray when I collide with something.

I fall flat on my back in shock, staring up at a sky dark with stormy clouds instead of the bright sunny weather I once saw. My dream had turned into a nightmare and it was only just beginning.

Gale looms over me and he reaches a hand down as if he were to pull me up. I reach for it in a panic, but instead, I see a round black object attached to a silver parachute in those familiar fingers. Its a bomb. The same kind that killed my sister.

His smile is predatory, the kind he has when he spots a deer when we're both hunting together. "Go on, Katniss. Its time for the Girl on Fire to get a taste of real flames."

Just as the bomb explodes in a flash of burning light, I find myself back in my home. Gasping for breath and sweating, but definitely back in my home in District 12's Victor's Village.

I can feel the salt from my tears stinging my cheeks as I try to catch my breath. The blanket had fallen to the floor from my thrashing. The fire in the hearth had burnt down to a few dying embers in a bed of ashes. Ashes.

And so began the process of my heart breaking to pieces all over again.

My fists clench the edges of the chair, my nails gouging little marks into the wood. I hear a guttural groan somewhere but I can't focus and figure out from what. I can feel it again. The flames burning Prim's flesh. The spear entering Rue's body. And the pain of countless others who died in vain for the Mockingjay. Too many lives.

I barely hear the front door open and crash against the wall as my sadness seizes me, paralyzing me. Tears blur my vision as a face appears, but its unclear on who it is. Until I catch the faint scent of alcohol.

"H-Haymitch..."

He barely manages to keep his balance when I fall into his arms and hold onto him for dear life. He's the only one who hasn't left me, whether its by choice or not. I can tell he's trying his best to console me, but he's clearly uncomfortable and only manages to rub my shoulders a bit. "They're gone," I whisper when he pauses to push some loose tendrils of hair back from my sweaty forehead.

"I know, sweetheart," he mumbles back before snaking an arm around under my arms and helping me to my feet. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

He helps me up the stairs. Both of us teeter slightly, me from the horrors of my nightmares and him from the side effects of the alcohol, before he pushes me into the bathroom and mumbles something about a bath. He turns the water on and helps me over to the tub before setting me down on its edge carefully.

Just before he closes the door so I can undress, he says quietly, "Hang in there for just a few more days, sweetheart." The door shuts firmly and I drop myself down to the cool tile floor, exhausted.

_That's the best advice you can give me? Stay alive? Hang in there? _I clench my eyes shut, wishing that it was as easy as he says.


	3. Chapter 2: Blaze

Chapter 2- Blaze

Its morning when I groggily come to. Its been two days since Haymitch came over and made me take a bath, and I've been lying on my bed ever since. I suppose its an improvement from the rocking chair from the past few weeks.

I hadn't moved at all yesterday, even when Sae came up and brought food to me. I didn't touch my breakfast because of the nightmares that were still fresh in my mind. But she insisted that she stay with me for supper as she brought food up to my room, made herself comfortable on a chair nearby, and chattered on about her day, the local gossip, and what she decided to put in that day's stew while I picked at the stew she brought me until it grew cold.

I could tell that the fact that I was even eating released some of Sae's anxiety over my health. She even prepared hot tea for me later on, which I accepted primarily to keep my hands warm.

I barely listened to her speaking to me. Just a nod here and there to remain polite and to show her I was at least a little grateful that she was trying so hard to help me out.

"Girl, are you listening to me?"

I shake myself out of my reverie, guiltily hoping she wouldn't notice. "What?"

She shakes her head. "The next train from the Capitol is coming tomorrow with goods for Christmas and rebuilding materials. They want to get some more construction done before the snow starts to fall."

"Oh." I don't exactly know what I feel about this piece of information or really how to respond either. "That's good."

Sae smiles softly, the corner of her eyes crinkling. "Isn't it? Maybe they'll even bring in those special trees from District 7. Those triangular ones."

But the conversation no longer really interests me. Sae tries for a few moments more to coax me to talk some more, but when its apparent that my thoughts are lost once again, she bids me goodbye and takes the dishes downstairs to wash.

I don't know how long I stay in bed, but I know the evening passes by quickly as I sink down into the soft covers and try to block out the rest of the world. Haymitch drops by in the middle of the night with a glass of water, his eyes bloodshot and his clothes ruffled. "Did you just get up?" I manage to cough out, my voice hoarse from disuse.

"Its midnight, sweetheart. You know we both don't sleep."

"I'm not nocturnal like you."

"Better nocturnal than up 24/7." That shuts me up quickly. He sits on the mattress next to me as I down the water slowly. There is a look in his eyes that makes me uneasy.

"Stop staring at me, Haymitch." The malice has completely disappeared from my voice.

He grunts, but ignores my comment. But he purses his lips thoughtfully, which brings about another anxious comment. "What?"

He takes a deep breath before looking me in the eye with those intense Seam gray eyes. "You need to get out of the house, sweetheart." He knows I'm about to interrupt and turn down his offer because he grasps my shoulder to keep my attention on his words. "I have some stuff arriving with the train tomorrow. Whether or not you like it, I'm not able to take it home all by myself."

"Maybe if you weren't so intoxicated, you might be able to," I sneer, a blaze of irritation rekindling inside of me. Almost making me feel alive for a moment. I savor it, the fire giving me strength. But as soon as it springs up, the flame dies down and I'm back to my miserable old self.

"Charming as always."

I glare at him, find myself tiring rapidly. "Whatever, Haymitch," I sigh, "Its going to be too much, seeing the rebuilding. Knowing I'm walking where people have-"

He's nodding but he doesn't seem to be hearing me. "Yes, yes. I know, you've told me countless times. But its just a trip to the train, Katniss. And my shipment can't be carried home by myself. Afterwards, I'll even leave you alone," he adds with his usual sneer.

I snort disbelievingly. He sighs, then growls out reluctantly, "It'll be a great help if you did."

His words home in and I hesitate. Damn him. He played the selfish card. The only reason I'm not able to resist against. Selfish. That's what I've been the past two years throughout the Games and the war. Only caring about myself and my survival while people around me died for a rebellion I had sparked up with those damn berries. My brows begin to furrow instinctively, a sign of distress I've never been able to keep hidden from Haymitch. He knew my greatest strengths, but he also knew my biggest weaknesses. He's smart. _For a drunk, _I think irritably.

"Sweetheart, this'll be a nice self_less _thing to do for me," he urges roughly, frustrated. "I can't persuade you that you're one of the most selfless people I've ever come across. But I can _tell _you that you have opportunities to turn that around if you believe otherwise."

He's right, but I don't want to admit it. He knows I'm guilt-ridden of District 12's destruction, but doesn't voice it. Surprisingly, Haymitch has been the one and only person who seems to understand me in my devastation.

The blaze begins to burn again. There's a small spark of hope. Perhaps I can move on and heal myself slowly through Haymitch, as dangerous and irrational as that may seem. I may have lost Peeta, Prim, Rue, Finnick, and countless others, but maybe I do have a fighting chance. It grows stronger with these thoughts. I no longer wish to sit and stare at the flames of my fireplace while I struggle to find my will to live.

I find myself nodding before the words reach my mouth and a smirk grazes across Haymitch's mouth. "Alright, but only because you need your alcohol."

His laugh sounds all the way until he's reached his own house across the street.


	4. Chapter 3: Burns

Chapter 3- Burns

I don't sleep very well throughout the night, so instead I spend my evening tossing a ball of yarn at Buttercup's head. The mangy cat squalls angrily when I succeed in nailing him on the flank, but other than an angry hiss and a twitching tail, he just glares at me as expected.

I get up from the couch when Buttercup starts meowing for his supper and make my way to the kitchen with the tangled fur ball twining between my legs. The hardwood floor is cold and I don't bother turning the lights on as I tug the fridge open and pull out some leftover stew I hadn't finished eating yesterday.

The sky outside is a pale lavender as I set the food down in front of Buttercup, dawn just beginning to break. I sigh to myself. Another night without sleep. The weariness sets in just as the sun breaks the horizon as I watch Buttercup pick and choose among the bits of meat Sae had thrown into the mixture. And it is only when the sun reaches the middle of the sky that I get up and move upstairs to get dressed for the day.

I splash some cold water on my face after I dress in a dark green tank top and dark gray pants, staring at the reflection in the mirror. The girl, I note, looks nothing like Katniss Everdeen had. She is gaunt. Lifeless. The bags under her eyes speak plainly of sleepless nights and stressful memories. Her skin is pale, a ghostly shade that is such a drastic transition from my rich olive skin from roaming in the sun while hunting. There's no trace of emotion on the girl's face, and I uncomfortably turn away from the reflection. Is that what Haymitch and Sae see every day? Shame burns deep in my gut, scalding hot. They have been so kind yet I pay them back with unresponsiveness.

This fact alone sparks deep resentment for myself. But I push it away roughly, reminding myself that Prim is dead, Peeta is gone, and that I started a rebellion that killed so many.

"Its not your fault, you know."

I spin around to see Haymitch leaning against my doorframe, sipping from a glass of water he must have helped himself to in my kitchen. "I would tell you to make yourself at home, but it seems you already have," I bite back, ignoring his previous comment.

"Did you hear me, sweetheart? I know you think all that bad stuff happened because of you, but why can't you think about how many people you've saved?" He approaches slowly as if I'm going to flee from him until he's close enough to murmur quietly, "You recreated Panem. You stopped the Games. Imagine how many children would've gotten Reaped if you didn't do this."

"And you're sober," I snort in response, noting there's no alcohol on his breath.

"Nice observation, sweetheart. Now let's get going. My booze shipment is the only thing keeping me here."

We walk through Victor's Village without a problem. Nothing was touched during the war in this part of town. I feel guilt rise up as I think about everyone else's destroyed homes that were burned down to cinders, but Haymitch seems to sense this. He starts this game with me where we have to kick some bright white stone he found all the way to the train station, taking turns.

Kicking the stone turns out to be incredibly distracting and I hardly notice when we walk into town. Haymitch is humming to himself and I find myself almost enjoying accompanying him to the station. Haymitch doesn't bother me often, but he makes sure I'm alright. And because of that, I am grateful for his presence.

He stops the stone with his foot, making me look up instinctively. All around me, there are people milling about. Not just dark haired, gray-eyed Seam people. Not just blond, blue-eyes Merchants. But others. Strangers. Not from District 12.

"They're trying to mix the people of the Districts," Haymitch explains gruffly. "Part of reconstruction." I nod, but spot an empty, untouched plot of land amidst the piles of wood boards, cement, and work tools. "What's that?"

Haymitch blinks before muttering something unintelligible. I shrug. Perhaps they haven't gotten the land rights from the Capitol to build there.

We start the kicking game again, pausing every once in a while when someone happens to stop by and say hello, brave enough to ignore Haymitch's dirty looks. "Thanks," I mutter quietly after Haymitch chases off a particularly excited woman who wanted to see 'the Mockingjay'.

He doesn't respond, but after a bit of walking, he says, "They love you, you know."

We keep kicking the rock until we reach the station and there is already a bunch of railroad staff unloading large crates and barrels of supplies not too far from the loading dock. Haymitch excuses himself to speak to the manager of the train station while I sit on a bench to observe. I spot the rail car filled with the triangular trees that Sae had spoken to me about earlier and consider buying one for her later when they are shipped to the Hob.

Haymitch is in an intense conversation with the train manager, but soon he waves the man away and approaches me. "Come on, sweetheart. Let's get our stuff and get out of here." I couldn't have put it better myself.

However, he leads me away from the stack of packages that are piled in a pyramid by the station walls. Puzzled, I follow. I'm almost cautious as we approach the passenger section of the platform.

"Haymitch?"

He doesn't answer, sending a chill down my back. "Haymitch! What's going on?" We stop at a passenger car after pushing through a crowd of people coming off of the train. He waits impatiently, his gaze locked on the car hungrily.

I grab his arm and spin him around, irritated. "Haymitch-"

But I don't get a chance to continue because the passenger car door slides open with a hiss. I look up, embarrassed to be caught harassing Haymitch. Instead, I stop dead in my tracks. Blond locks of hair lie ruffled from travel. Piercingly gently blue eyes meet mine. But what causes the breath to catch in my throat is the glint of sunlight off the polished brass of a Mockingjay pin, attached firmly to the collar of the simple black t-shirt he wears.

Staring back at me is the boy I never thought I'd see again. The boy who promised me he'd come back to me. The boy who saved my life years ago. Peeta Mellark has returned to District 12.

I release Haymitch unconsciously, shock forcing me to take a step back.

"Katniss." My name coming from his lips doesn't seem real. Peeta takes a step forward and reaches out to me slowly. I don't move. My mind screams at me to get away, that I'm not right for him. But my body craves his touch. His hand caresses mine and I inhale sharply.

But his touch doesn't calm me. No. Instead, it burns. And all I can think about is how much I need to get away from the sensation.

And that's exactly what I do when I turn on my heel and leave without looking back.


	5. Chapter 4: Empty

Chapter 4- Empty

Its been hours since Peeta had left that train and entered my life and I've spent it locked in my house scowling at my pillow as I lie on my bed. Every time I close my eyes briefly to try and rid my mind of our reunion, all I see are those baby blue eyes reflecting what we both had felt at that moment- shock, wariness...

But worst of all, the yearning. I can't pretend I didn't feel it because I know that even though I promised myself that I would let Peeta go in District 13, I couldn't. He was the lifeline I didn't know I needed. Until now.

And I despised that.

This brings another scowl to my face as I glare at the headboard of my bed. Damn him, and damn Haymitch for tricking me into going to the train station. When I ran out on both of them, I was forced to make my way back through town alone, which resulted in a bout of tears by the time I reached my home in Victor's Village. I've forced all those people to rebuild by destroying 12. I've ruined Peeta's life once, yet now he's back. For what? More suffering? Why is he drawn to the one person, me, who seems to be the magnet of death and destruction?

Another scowl. Effie once scolded me over them, telling me that the expression would stick if I continued to do it. Now I simply don't care.

What must Peeta be thinking now? Does he hate me for walking out on him right after he got off that train? Is he disappointed that I didn't welcome him home with open arms? That I couldn't handle the fear of hurting him as soon as he stepped off that train?

I scowl again, but this time at myself. _You probably hurt him by leaving the train, idiot._ I'm such a fool. _A fool for Peeta, _my mind suggests. I bite my lip, shaking my head. He can't be near me. Not unless he wants to get sucked into my whirlpool of despair, guilt, death... And I can't throw my problems on top of his own. He's just come back from treatment to someone even more mentally unstable. _Great, Katniss. Just great._

The sound of a door shutting puts me on my feet as I peer out my window, pinpointing the sound like I would if I was hunting. I can hear Haymitch in front of the house next to mine. "Boy, you just have to give her some time. She's going to be fine once-"

"No, Haymitch!" I'm surprised Peeta is speaking so fiercely to our mentor, but I listen on. "Did you see her? How has she come to that? How could you let her just waste away-"

"Now listen to me," Haymitch snarls back, his voice taking on a nasty tone that silences Peeta immediately. "I can't force food or water down that girl's throat. Hell, I can't even get her out of that house. Ever since the war, all she's been doing is crying, having those damn nightmares, and blaming herself for everything and everyone. Can't you see how much she's suffering, boy?"

Peeta is quiet and I'm holding my breath, waiting for a response. Haymitch continues cruelly, "She turned to alcohol twice- once right when we got back, and another time when the nightmares got too bad. She almost drowned herself in the bathtub once and its common to find her spacing out the entire day, crying and shutting everything out around her."

Admittedly, Haymitch is right. When I first returned to 12, almost immediately after the alcohol binge I had, I had filled the tub, desperate to escape from the daily misery I could never shake. The water was hot, almost to the point where it scalded my skin, but I ignored the heat. Instead, I relished it. I deserved to be burned. The girl on fire. Or rather, I deserved to be extinguished. Wouldn't it be the only punishment fair enough for all the friends and family that died because of me?

I had sunken below the surface of the hot bath water, feeling some of the hatred towards myself lessen. What if I joined them all? Finnick. Rue. Even the two Career Tributes I killed in the first games. Even Cato. Guilt haunted me for all of them. But there was only one death where guilt _consumed_ me completely. _Prim_.

Surprisingly, I felt complete calm under the water instead of my usual panicky horror. _Perhaps Prim would forgive me if I joined her._

But instead, just as the edges of my vision had gone black, the surface of the water breaks and two strong hands yank me from the tub. Later on, Haymitch tells me I am only allowed to take showers unless he is in the house. I ignore him and just haven't bathed in weeks, confining myself to the creaking wood chair near the mantle.

"-my fault, I was gone." Peeta's voice brings me back to the present. The comment is strained and I just know he's blaming himself again. Despite being given the worst circumstances the past two years and dealing with me, my boy in the bread is still putting Katniss Everdeen before himself.

A door slams and I spot Haymitch making his way back to his house before disappearing. The sun is setting now, casting rays of muted orange along the Victor's Village houses. _Peeta's favorite color._

What could he possibly be thinking? Does he hate me for it? That its all his fault that I've drowned myself in my sorrows? Literally? The thought is sick. Utterly wrong. But a small bark of laughter comes out of my mouth. Yes, there is something terribly wrong with the shell Katniss Everdeen has become.

I retreat to my bed, sitting on the edge of my mattress while staring at the empty wall opposite of me. Empty. Like me.

I close my eyes, curling up on the bed and wishing I could disappear from everything.


	6. Chapter 5: Scared

Chapter 5- Scared

Its late in the evening when Buttercup wakes me from a restless nap, in which I was floating in and out of consciousness. He lets out an angry _mmrow _and sits on the floor, eyes narrowed. "What?" I demand.

Its only then that I hear the knock at my door. Loud. Heavy. I haul myself out of the tangled sheets, dragging myself down the stairs to the door before wrenching it open irritably.

My mood dampens considerably as I register who it is.

I move to slam the door in Haymitch's face, but he shoots out a hand and grasps the door, stopping it. "May I come in, sweetheart?" His voice is mocking, but its futile to fight him when he's obviously in a better condition than I am, even as a drunk.

"Go away, Haymitch." I'm surprised at the venom I manage in my voice despite how tired I am. But it does not have the desired effect as Haymitch shuts the door behind him and swaggers over to the couch, dropping himself down with a huff.

He watches as I sit across from him on the coffee table, then says, "As welcoming as ever."

"After that stunt you pulled at the train station, can you blame me," I retort.

"You really thought we were going to go pick up some more alcohol from the Capitol? I can buy all the booze I want at the Hob now that there's tons of merchants moving to 12," he says, chuckling to himself.

"Go screw your-"

"Sweetheart, you _need _this." The urgency in his voice stops me, but it doesn't extinguish the anger I still feel towards him.

"What exactly do I need, Haymitch," I hiss. "To ruin his life _again?" _

"You didn't ruin his life, sweetheart. The boy had it coming when he announced to the world that he loved you on television," he says flatly. "Can't you see that he still does?"

He's partially right, but I refuse to let him know that. "So the hijacking wasn't my fault? They did that to him because of me! They wanted _me_ dead! So they used _him!_"

Haymitch gives me a hard look. "But he's not ruined, sweetheart. And if you didn't run off right when he got back to 12, you would have realized that."

I shoot him a deadly glare, but he just guffaws rudely. "I never thought I'd see the day Katniss Everdeen was scared."

"I'm not scared," I protest, but we both fall silent, letting it sink in.

Damn him. Haymitch. How can he always see the things I'm not aware of, then present them to me as if they were obvious?

I am scared. But not for myself. For Peeta. After everything we've been through, I've always been more worried for his safety than for myself. And to be completely honest, he's suffered maybe more than I have. He was just as responsible for murders and deaths as I was- Cato, the morphling who sacrificed herself for him in the Quell, Finnick, the men in our District 13 squad. He lost family as well- his brothers, his mother and father. He was tortured endlessly by the Capitol. He lost his memory, replaced with Tracker Jacker venom.

With a pang, I realized that I was the only one he had left. The only one besides Haymitch and Johanna that has been through it all.

And I pushed him away.

I curse myself. I should never have been so insensitive. I still have my mother. I was safe in 13 while he was a prisoner, tortured and forced against his will to fight us.

Haymitch pushes himself up off the couch and stands, moving to where I sit, hunched on the table. He crouches so he can make eye contact with me. Gray Seam eyes meeting. I blink, feeling my anger evaporate and guilt threaten to spill over.

And as Haymitch opens his arms, I throw myself into them and start crying. Its simply not fair. I never wanted all of this. Haymitch just holds me as I curse the world, curse the rebellion, curse the Capitol for putting Prim's name in the Reaping ball, curse the Quell.

When I finally pull away, sniffling and wiping my red-rimmed eyes with my fist, he looks at me with sympathy. "I'm sorry," I say.

"We have nothing to be sorry for," Haymitch says, grasping my arms.

"I know."

"Its the Capitol. But they're gone."

"I know," I repeat, my voice bleak.

"But its not too late for us to move on." He gets to his feet and helps me up. "The boy is baking bread for supper. Its almost 9. And I need some food in my gut to temper the alcohol."

"You can't just live off of bread, Haymitch," I sniffle, but his lips tilt up in a smirk.

"No, but its a good place to start, sweetheart."


	7. Chapter 6: Sparks

Chapter 6-

_Its because of Haymitch that I'm doing this_, I think. Its because he's so damn stubborn and that he's usually (and grudgingly) right most of the time that I am trudging up my stairs to my room to 'change into something nice'.

I quickly take off my clothes from earlier, casting aside the tank top and pants in the corner before reaching into my closet and perusing through the racks.

Cinna had created clothes that I had never even seen before, all just for me. He had placed them all into a Capitol train for safekeeping and they had all been transferred to my Victor's Village house during the Quell. I caressed the soft satin of a pale blue above-the-knee dress wistfully. He was also gone, because of me. My only confidant and friend from the Capitol that I could trust with my life. The only one who knew exactly what he was doing and suffered the consequences without complaint.

I push all that away. Haymitch was waiting downstairs and I didn't want him to come up impatiently to find me naked and still trying to figure out what to wear.

I decide on a knee-length dark green dress with a golden-brown sash around the waist. Its casual, but still elegant. _Elegant enough for your reunion, _I think, grimacing. It had been a whole month since Peeta departed District 13 up until he arrived in 12 earlier today. What would I even say to him?

_I miss you. I can't bear the thought of you hurt. I don't want you to be alone ever. When we're together-_

I pause. What about when we're together? I pull the dress on over my head, washing up in the bathroom quickly before heading downstairs to meet Haymitch. He smirks when I reach the bottom of the steps, my hair still down, but brushed. "You clean up well, sweetheart." I roll my eyes in response, but sit on the couch gingerly.

"Haymitch." I hesitate, not sure what exactly I'm about to ask of my mentor, but he doesn't seem bothered as he scrounges around my kitchen for ice and a glass.

"Hm?" He says.

"Do you think Peeta is completely better now?" I bite my lip.

"You mean, is there any trace of Tracker Jacker venom that may want to strangle your neck and rip your guts out?" I glare at him as he pours himself a small drink from his silver flask. "Honestly, I don't know, sweetheart. He just got back today and I didn't have a very nice conversation with him after your departure."

I clench my jaw, resisting the urge to punch him. "I don't want to trigger anything," I explain irritably. "You know just as well as I do-"

"How bad it gets. I know, sweetheart. You don't have to remind me." He empties his glass in one long pull. "But there's no way to really know for sure until we get ourselves over there for a nice supper so let's be on our way."

Peeta lives in the house right next to mine so the walk over is really less than a minute. But the whole way, I'm dragging my heels, dreading what may or may not happen.

Haymitch notices and sneers, amused, "You know, its okay if you are nervous, but just wait until I'm out of the house til you two jump each other." I'm horrified, yet somehow not surprised he says this.

The walk is brief since Peeta lives in the house next to mine. Haymitch holds back and gestures to the door. I grimace, then walk up the steps and raise a fist to knock. My mouth feels dry. I forge on.

I knock three times. Haymitch's smirk burns into the back of my neck, but I ignore it. It only makes it worse to let him know how embarrassed and nervous I am.

The door opens after a few moments and Peeta pokes his head out, eyes widening when he spots me. "Hey, I didn't know you were coming over."

An elbow to my rib from Haymitch jerks me out of staring at his face where I had been hypnotized by his angular jaw and deep blue eyes-

"Hi, Peeta." My voice cracks in the middle of my greeting, but a grin breaks out on his face. The door opens a little wider. "Come on in, dinner is almost ready," Peeta says.

Haymitch pushes past me rudely, mumbling something about 'taking forever from staring', leaving me with Peeta at the door. I take a moment to look at him closer. He lost the muscle he had put on back at 13 when they had him train to join our squad. He still has wide shoulders, yet his eyes look tired as his gaze meets mine. It surprises me that he looks almost as exhausted as I feel. His hair has grown out, but it suits him. He runs a hand through it nervously.

"You look pretty tonight."

I blush, dropping my gaze and slipping past him at the door. "Thanks," I say, barely louder than a whisper. He moves to close the door behind us when his fingers accidentally brush mine.

I feel it again. That spark. The curiosity. The one that I only felt when we kissed in the cave and on the beach in the Quell.

And with it came the lust.

Peeta must've felt it too because his gasp is audible. He recoils immediately, muttering something about how he left the bread in the oven, and hurries away.

Even after he disappears into the kitchen, I feel the spot on my hand pulsing with a warm glow. A spark.


	8. Chapter 7: Warmth

Chapter 7- Warmth

The food smells delicious as I walk into the kitchen. Haymitch has plopped himself on a chair at the table, hunching over a fresh loaf of bread and ripping chunks off hungrily. Peeta is bustling around in the kitchen, unusually flustered.

"Do you need help?" I walk over and stand awkwardly by the refrigerator. Peeta pauses, looking up at me from where he is checking a pot on the stove. A warm glow buds in my stomach when he smiles. "Sure. Could you stir this while I cut up some more bread?"

I nod and he hands over a wooden spoon before grabbing a still-hot loaf from the oven and tossing it onto a cutting board. "Doesn't that hurt, Peeta?" I ask.

"The bread? No, I'm used to it," he laughs. "Working at the bakery and all. I've gotten burned far worse."

I flinch at his words, but he turns away before he can see my mixed reaction. _He wasn't talking about you, _I scold myself. I decide not to start any more conversation as I watch the stew and stir it. Haymitch is watching us intently, his eyes narrowed.

I give him a look. _What?_

His eyebrow cocks, yet he continues shoving bread in his mouth like he doesn't care.

Peeta places a freshly cut loaf on the table before coming up behind me and leaning over my shoulder. I start at his closeness, but he doesn't seem to notice. "That looks perfect," he says before reaching under my arm to turn off the heat, brushing my waist. A jolt courses through me, unexpected, and it takes all my willpower not to shy away.

"Alright, I think we can take these to the table." He pulls out some bowls from his cabinets, then places his hand over mine, which is still grasping the spoon. I clench my eyes shut at the strange feelings that are churning in my stomach when he does. _Dammit, keep it together!_

"Katniss? Katniss?"

I realize he's speaking to me. "Uh... yeah?" He looks confused and I notice that his hand had jerked away, leaving my hand cold and gripping the spoon tightly.

"The spoon?"

"Oh! Right," I say. I drop it into his hand quickly before sitting down at the table with Haymitch as he scoops out portions. Haymitch smirks at me knowingly and I struggle to compose myself.

Peeta takes a seat next to me, placing bowls of stew down for everyone. "Alright, dig in. There's even enough for seconds." I can see him glance at me and I know he's thinking about how I haven't been eating well lately. He catches me watching and drops his gaze to the food before beginning to eat.

Dinner progresses without much conversation. Peeta seems like he's stirring his stew more than he's actually eating it and Haymitch is simply sitting back in his chair, his eyes flitting from Peeta's face to mine. Observing.

I do manage to finish my helping of stew and a piece of fresh bread. Peeta clears his throat and says, "If I knew you were coming, I would've put together some cheese buns."

This brings another blush to my cheeks. "Its too much trouble," I respond mildly.

Another awkward silence. Haymitch breaks this one by loudly declaring he needs his alcohol and swaggers out the front door, making sure to snag a loaf of bread on his way out. As the door shuts, I realize that I'm alone with Peeta.

I glance over at him and see that he's gotten up and is spooning me another helping. "There's no need-" I begin, but he places the still-hot serving in front of me.

"You don't have to be shy, Katniss," he says. He's avoiding all eye contact with me. We're quiet as I start in on my second helping, but we end up just pushing the food around mostly.

The silence is irritating, so I decide to start first. "How have you been?" Its a simple question. I'm hoping there isn't just a one-word answer tied to it, however.

He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "I've been better," he answers truthfully. I nod, knowing how he feels. He surprises me when he continues, elaborating. "Its been tough, the last month." A sigh escapes his mouth. "The Capitol is so different, but it all feels the same."

The memories. Of course. So I say the first thing that comes to mind. "I'm sorry."

He chuckles and his eyes shine a bit. It gives him a boyish quality. "You're always apologizing. Don't be."

But it all starts tumbling out. And I can't stop it. Because if I do, I don't know what I'll say and then we'll be back to where we started. "I wish I could've stopped them. Or done something. Or somehow made it easier for you. I don't have excuses. And I understand if you hate me for it. But-"

Peeta cuts me off. "Katniss, please stop." I fall silent and he continues. "Let's just keep talking and take things from there, okay?"

I guiltily place my fork on the table. Peeta must take this as a signal that I am leaving. Walking out on him again. And he quickly places his hand over mine. "No. Please. Stay."

I don't want to. I don't want to talk about the Capitol. Or the hijacking. Or anything really. I don't want to trigger him. To bring him pain.

The guilt is back and with Peeta sitting next to me, its hard to fight back my tears, looking at the boy who went through it all and could still be so forgiving and kind. I don't deserve him.

When he moves from his seat to where I am sitting and looks me in the eye, I ask shakily, "Do you forgive me?"

He smiles sadly. Then runs his fingers gently over my hand, sending warm waves up and down my arm.

"There's nothing to forgive."


	9. Chapter 8: Been Like

Chapter 8

It was apparent that neither or us really had an appetite anymore so Peeta wordlessly goes back to his seat and we both finish our food slowly. He does talk a little more though. About the Capitol. About the changes he's seen and what has stayed the same over the years.

Its odd hearing these things from him. I hadn't realized how much time has flown by. We're both 18 now, considered adults in District 12. We've been through the Hunger Games, the Quarter Quell, a rebellion. Me- losing my sister, losing friends and killing people with my own hands. Peeta- going through torture, surviving a hijacking, losing his entire family.

"Katniss, you're frowning again." Peeta's staring at me, concern darkening his eyes. I shake my head. "Do you ever think about it, Peeta?"

He cocks his head. "Think about what?" he says.

"What it would've been like if we didn't have to go into the Games?"

He shrugs. "Sure. Do you?"

I pause. But not to think my answer through. Just to take in a deep breath and push on. "Yeah. I do."

He smiles softly as he gathers the empty dishes. I immediately get up and walk over to the sink to wash them despite his protests. "Please. Its the least I can do," I tell him. He sighs, but busies himself making two cups of tea.

I'm washing the stew pot when he says, "What did you think it would be like?"

I rinse the pot as I say, "A lot easier." He's leaning his back against the counter opposite of me and facing me, his arm crossed. His silence encourages me to continue. "I'd still be hunting, of course."

"And I'd still be baking," he adds.

"And every Sunday, I'd come by and trade squirrels for your bread." I say.

He smiles at that and I carry on. "Prim would be safe, finishing up school, and she'd become close with Rory Hawthorne, despite my objections."

I stop then, noticing that it doesn't hurt to talk about Prim this way. Instead, even though it reminds me of how she is dead and gone, it reminds me that none of this was in my control.

"Do you want to stop there," Peeta asks gently as he checks the teabags that are steeping in the hot water. I shake my head.  
"Things would eventually get better and Prim would have new clothes to wear," I continue, closing my eyes to picture it better. "That stupid cat would still be there, but only because he makes Prim happy." I hear Peeta chuckle.

"I'd go to the Hob and people would treat me normally."

"Not like a celebrity," Peeta confirms.

"And I'd be able to get everything my family needs," I say softly.

"And when you'd walk to and from the Hob every day, you would stop by the bakery window to look at the cakes," Peeta says, resulting in me opening my eyes and looking at him. He meets my gaze steadily. "And I'd try to talk to you every time, but the only time we would talk is when we were trading squirrels," he says, half-jokingly.

I'm hit with a pang of sadness. "Peeta, you couldn't just not be part of my life."

"Oh, I would be," he agrees readily, "but I don't think I would ever get the guts up to approach you."

I look down at my feet, shame burning my cheeks. "I would have had to thank you _some _day for the bread."

Peeta's feet come into my view of the floor and I look up abruptly to find him distractingly close. He seems hesitant as he raises his arms and rest his hands on my shoulders. But the words come out firmly. "Katniss, you never have to thank me for that bread. I would've done the same thing every day for you if you needed it." He then leans his head down and rests his forehead against mine.

My heart is pounding and I feel like I can barely breathe. The fire is back, the warm glow in my stomach that only appears when Peeta is touching me. The one that makes my mouth go dry and steals the words from my lips.

I could easily just wrap my arms around his torso and pull him closer. I could tilt my head up just a few inches and taste those lips I've missed so much. I could reach up and push the hair out of his eyes that shine only for me.

But instead he pulls back and lets go, leaving me utterly confused and struggling to reign in my emotions.

He grabs a small bowl on the counter and spoons out two teaspoons of sugar into a cup of tea. He then hands it to me, then picks up the other, unsweetened.

"Cheers," he says, lifting his cup.

"To what should've been."


	10. Chapter 9: Treated

Chapter 9

After updating Peeta on what has been going on in District 12 on his living room couch, we sit in comfortable silence. Peeta had brought out some cookies he had baked earlier to go with the tea, the baked goods topped with delicate frosting designs. It feels good to see that Peeta is still able to channel his love for baking after all of this. It makes me feel guilty about my pitiful hunting excursions.

Peeta has asked me about those. He has actually invited me over for dinner again tomorrow. "I may need some fresh meat though," he says, thinking that I would volunteer my skills to fulfill the task. I shuffle my feet uncomfortably. "I haven't been hunting well," I confess, ashamed. Right when I got back from 12, I tried once to throw myself back into my daily routine as suggested by Sae. However, after many startled animals, arrows completely missing their marks, and a wasted afternoon, I came back home, empty-handed and sobbing.

Peeta is stunned when I recount that miserable day. He then nonchalantly changes the topic by saying how it all comes back with practice and proceeds to tell me a story about how, when he returned from the first Games, he had forgotten how to cook after the Capitol food. His words distract me, but not enough so that I forget how embarrassing it is to admit that the huntress had forgotten how to hunt. Even Peeta's smooth words and silver tongue can't hide the fact that I am useless.

Its quiet when I ask him the one question I wanted the answer to. "Peeta, about the... treatment." I pause, carefully watching him. He only nods for me to continue. "Well... how effective was it?"

He looks thoughtful for a moment. "The treatment was very thorough," he begins. "It took a whole month for them to complete it." The cup in his hand rotates as he stares down into the warm tea. "They successfully neutralized most of the venom, but there's still a bit left that they didn't want to risk treating."

"Why?" I'm puzzled, but Peeta doesn't hide anything.

"If they did, there would be a high risk that I would have short-term memory loss on top of the long-term hijacking stuff. They pretty much reversed the symptoms though, so I remember most things." He seems content, so I drop the topic. I feel immense relief that most of the venom is gone. That means less episodes. Less violence. I have him back, for the most part. I push down the small disappointment that pushes up when he mentions that it isn't completely gone. I should be grateful he's as well off as he is.

We finish up the plate of cookies and a second cup of tea as I realize how late it has become. "Its late," I say.

Peeta nods, but makes no move to help me to the door. "You could stay here if you want," he says. "I could sleep on the couch and you could sleep on my bed-"

"That's not necessary." I interrupt him. "I don't want to inconvenience you."

"You wouldn't be inconveniencing me," he protests quietly, but I can't stay here because then everything will be happening so fast. Too fast. Then I would just end up confused. Pushing him away.

_I can't do that._

"Peeta, I live right next door," I argue reasonably.

He runs a hand through his hair. "Are you sure?" I nod. He follows me as I walk to his front door. As soon as he pulls the door open, a wintery gust blows in, chilling me to the bone. Peeta shuts the door quickly before opening up his hall closet and pulling out a soft dark gray hoodie. "Here, its cold outside," he says, shaking it out and holding it open for me to slip my arms in. I step away instead. "Peeta, really, its not-"

"Just take it, Katniss. You're coming back tomorrow anyways," he says. Seeing that he won't let me leave until I put it on, I let him place the warm cotton hoodie over my shoulders. Just as I reach for the doorknob, he pulls me into his arms and embraces me gently.

The hug does it again, except this time, I feel overly hot. Maybe its the hoodie. I close my eyes, savoring the warmth, however. After so long of feeling so cold, so dead to the world, he comes and brings the light I need to survive. Now I'm burning. Alive. I barely have time to return the hug before he says good night and pulls back. Flushed, I make my way back home, turning back once to find him watching from the window to make sure I'm safe.

When I'm back in my own house, I head to my bedroom and begin to undress, throwing Peeta's hoodie onto my pillow while taking the dress and tossing it into the hamper. I decide to shower in the morning and put on the worn t-shirt I designated for sleeping before collapsing onto the bed.

That night, even though I wake up once to feed Buttercup.

I have a dreamless sleep, my head resting on Peeta's jacket.


	11. Chapter 10: We

Chapter 10

The sound of birds chirping wakes me. I've barely opened my eyes when I spot Buttercup sitting on the windowsill of my room, staring out at the birds whistling on the branches outside. As soon as I shift on the bed, his head snaps around and he watches me.

"Really? You _have_ to be the first thing I see in the morning?" He hisses in response. The birds continue their song.

Stretching my body, I realize that even though my body is exhausted, my head feels clearer. The sheets are everywhere and I realize that I had been thrashing in my sleep throughout the night, but I hadn't actually woken up from a nightmare this morning.

I inhale a deep breath, catching the scent of cinnamon and sugar. Peeta's jacket. My cheeks grow hot. Memories from last night come back and I find myself moving my head away from where it lay on Peeta's hoodie.

I run through the facts in my head. Peeta's back from the Capitol. He still bakes. He no longer has venom thoroughly corrupting his mind. He didn't take sugar in his tea. He gave me his jacket. Peeta Mellark hugged me.

I briefly wonder if Peeta has the same reactions as I do whenever we touch. Would he feel the sparks too? Does he feel as alive as I do? Its hard to tell with Peeta. Talking his way around his true emotions.

Frowning, I unravel the fabric from my legs. A flash of old Katniss comes back when I think about needing someone else in my life. There's just no need for any of it.

When I think of the topic of love, there's really no happy ending to it. My mother- the way she died when my father was killed in the mine explosion. Annie- forever lost without Finnick by her side. Gale.

I draw a blank when I think of Gale. Part of me doesn't believe that he ever loved me. But another part of me also screams out that I was an idiot for not noticing it sooner. I think of the hurt look in his face when he declared his love for me and I only responded with an "I know", but I can't seem to regret it. I've always been a terrible liar.

Either way, Gale is now off in District 2, according to Sae. He had left for a high-paying Capitol job that was offered to him right after the war ended. My feelings are mixed about this, but in the end, I concede that it is all probably for the best.

After my shower, I throw on some jeans and a t-shirt. I grab a scarf from the closet, a deep-red colored one, and throw it around me neck before grabbing Peeta's hoodie from where it lay on my pillow.

I hesitate before putting it on. I remember when I was younger how my father would never hesitate to give his jacket to my mother when we would go on family picnics to the meadow. _It isn't like that. _

It hits me that I'm not really sure what me and Peeta are. I sit on my bed, contemplating. Its a little early to go over to Peeta's for breakfast, so I have time to myself to think.

Me and Peeta. What are we? I close my eyes and think hard, but I can't come up with a right word for it. Friends? Definitely not lovers. Acquaintances?

Instead, I ask myself the question of what we were, only to find that I'm not quite sure what the answer is to that one either. We kept constantly changing and blurring the lines with each other. We weren't in love. I think. Yet we went to each other for comfort. And I could trust him easily after I knew he wasn't out to kill me.

Except then he was. The hijacking threw us into a new sort of relationship- one I despised and wished never happened. We no longer trusted each other or knew who the other was anymore.

The taste of blood jerks me out from my thinking. I had been biting my bottom lip.

I shake my head. That only leaves on question. One that I'm scared to even think about.

What do I think we could be?

I automatically know that I need Peeta in my life. There's no point denying it when he lives right next door and that I've shared so many parts of my past with him. I have no reason to push him away, especially since his treatment went so well.

Haymitch's words spring to mind, however. _You could live a thousand lifetimes and not deserve him. _

I sigh, burying my head in my hands. Buttercup lets out a distressed mew and jumps onto the bed next to me. His face, though repulsive and unpleasant to look at, is tilted to the side.

"I'm fine."

He merely lets out a disgruntled growl. Even the cat can see through my lies.

I'm irritated. Confused and not knowing what to do. "If you're so smart, what do I do, you ugly thing?"  
Buttercup's lips raise in a snarl, but he purposefully leaps down from my bed and crosses to the window. Sitting on the ledge, he twitches his tail in the direction of Peeta's house and meows loudly. Pointedly. The look on his face is smug.

"Oh shut up."


	12. Chapter 11: Photos

Chapter 11

Right when I walk through the door, I know that Peeta has been busy all morning. The greasy smell of bacon mixes with freshly baked bread, giving the room a delicious odor. I kick off my boots before walking into the kitchen.

Peeta is busy at the stove, frying pancakes and bacon on a griddle and boiling eggs in another pot. He seems lost in concentration and sweat glistens on his brow from working over the burners. He doesn't seem to notice me so I slip out of the kitchen into the living room. The dishes from last night are gone from the coffee table. I end up looking at the pictures on his shelves.

There's one of Peeta with Effie, a recent photo. She has actually gotten rid of her extravagant Capitol outfit. I can barely recognize her, but she looks beautiful without all the makeup and bold colors.

Another is of Finnick and Annie. I recognize the picture that Annie had sent me in the mail. Perhaps she sent Peeta one as well. I wonder how she is, how she's coping without Finnick.

The next is a picture of Haymitch, scowling at the camera as Peeta crouches beside the chair he's sitting in. I laugh because its speaks so well of their personalities.

The next one surprises me though. Its a picture of me and Peeta, getting married. The picture was taken from the Capitol wedding President Snow hosted and broadcasted to the nation, yet it was cropped so it was only me and Peeta at the pew.

I examine our faces carefully. We both seem less tired. Stronger. Peeta's face is a mask of pride and joy. Only by looking closely at the picture can you see that it doesn't reach his eyes. My face seems happy, yet there's a worried crease in my brow speaking of stressful times. I close my eyes. Yes, the Capitol had _forced_ me to marry Peeta. And at that moment I _had_ felt utterly helpless and losing control of my own life.

But had I truly been unhappy? Did I regret being married to Peeta, even if it was a complete hoax?

"Katniss, I didn't hear you walk in." I turn around to see Peeta, wiping his hands on a dish towel. He spots the picture I'm still holding in my hands. _Oh damn._

"I was just looking around," I say. I place the picture back to where it was on the shelf. "Nice pictures."

He smiles. "That one's my favorite." He walks over and picks up the frame, wiping some dust off of it with his sleeve. When he places it back on the shelf, angling it so it catches the sunlight streaming in through the window, he adds quietly, "Even if it wasn't real."

His words strike home and I flinch. He means no harm by his words, but they always have a little bit more to them than he knows. He leads me to the breakfast table where the food is set out. He motions for me to begin as he pulls a chair out for me.

"Where's Haymitch?" I ask.

"Hung over. He barely managed to phone me earlier to tell me he wasn't coming." Peeta helps spoon food on my plate.

We eat in silence for a while. Peeta keeps putting food on my plate as if I'm not eating enough but he stops when I begin to talk to him. "You only have four pictures."

He looks up, eyes bright. "Yeah. Special people."

"Why do you keep our wedding photo?" I blurt out suddenly. His eyes go wide and I instantly regret my outburst.

"Sorry, I-"

He waves it away. "No, its fine. Its a nice picture of us, don't you think? I don't have many pictures with you, so I decided to put that one out. Does it bother you?"

"No! Course not." But it does, and Peeta can tell. He's about to say something when I say, "Really. Its fine. Its your house."

We finish our food quickly after that. Peeta clears the dishes while I put the leftovers into the fridge. When I'm wiping the tablecloth with a sponge, Peeta clears his throat.

"So what are you doing today?" he says.

I bite my lip, a habit I have when I'm nervous. "Probably cleaning my house."

He nods, distracted. "I see."

I walk past him to put the sponge back in the sink. "If you'd like, you could come over for supper later," I say quickly before I can change my mind.

He stares at me, his expression unreadable. "Just bring some bread just in case I burn down the house," I add uncomfortably. At this, he nods.

As he walks me to the front door, I realize I'm still wearing his jacket. "Oh! Here. I forgot to give this back." He laughs and places his hands over mine to stop them from unzipping it. "You can keep it as long as you want," he says. "Besides, today is supposed to be the first snow day of winter. It'll be chilly for a while."

I look up, ready to thank him and decline, but I'm distracted. I hadn't realized his face was so close to mine and that his hands were still on mine, warm and slightly rough. His eyes had darkened to a deep, rich shade of blue. I could almost hear our hearts pounding at the closeness.

His lips part then. Almost imperceptive. But I notice it. And I also notice that the distance between us is closing in. I don't know who moved first, yet I can't seem to organize any of my thoughts.

Not when Peeta Mellark is kissing me.


	13. Chapter 12: Boys

Chapter 12

Once, when I was little, my father had taken me to town with him to trade for some bread. My father knew the owner of the bakery very well and the two men got along well, laughing and joking around as I waited patiently for my father to finish the trades so we could go home.

On that sunny afternoon, instead of the baker answering the back door, it was a young boy. Blond floppy hair and blue eyes that reminded me of the lake my father and I went to when we hunted. My father ruffled the boy's hair affectionately, asking him to get his father and off he went, leaving the door propped open.

As we waited, I wondered curiously about the boy. He was polite. He was kind. And he didn't look at us like we were vermin. Not like the other Merchants in 12.

My father noticed me eyeing the door and teased, "Have you met little Peeta yet, Katniss?" I shake my head in response. I'm usually quiet when my father makes his trades so this doesn't surprise him. His gray eyes take on a mischievous glint and he says, "That boy is in your class at school."

I shrug. But I can feel my face grow warm. Why is my father bothering me about this boy?

The baker comes out soon after, and as he trades with my father, I see Peeta hiding behind his father's legs, looking out at me. I lower my head, trying to see him, but he ducks away bashfully. The baker laughs at this and lures me forward with a cookie, yet he hands it to Peeta to give to me. Peeta nearly tosses the cookie into my hands in his haste to hide again and our fathers laugh. I don't see whats so funny, but we thank the baker and take our goods home.

On the way home, my father points out a couple sitting on a wooden porch, kissing. I'm indifferent towards them, but my father teases, "See that? Would you ever do that with a boy?"

I shoot an indignant look at him, which leads him to double over in laughter. "Boys are _gross_, dad."

"_I'm_ a boy. Do you think I'm gross?"

No, I didn't. He seems to know he's won because he adds slyly, "Would you ever do that with little Peeta?"

"_EW!_" He cracks up again at my certainty. "Dad!"

He grins. "Good. Promise me you won't kiss any boy unless you change your mind and suddenly feel like you want to."

I jam the rest of the cookie in my mouth. "Promise."

And now, here I am, with my lips pressed against Peeta's. The irony.

His lips are gentle as they caress mine. He doesn't move his hands where they remain on mine. Those sensations come back. The one in the cave. When I wanted him to kiss me again. And the one on the beach. When I never wanted to stop.

But no one is here to interrupt us. The wicked thought passes through my mind and I feel Peeta's hand let go to move to my cheek. He gently runs the back of his hand against it, sending delicious shivers up my spine.

He tastes like the blueberry pancakes he made as I feel my resolve cracking. Yes, I promised myself that I wouldn't hurt Peeta, but what exactly does that mean? Does it mean simply eating meals together? Does it mean I will let him kiss me when he wants to? Does it mean more than that?

My mind is a jumbled mess as Peeta runs his tongue along my bottom lip. He must realize that I'm not quite responding to the wonderful sensations this kiss is stirring within me. But I want it. I want him.

I give in to the moment, the crack in my resolve shattering it to pieces. I kiss him back fervently. It probably isn't fair to do this to him, but I have to let it out- I missed him when he left. Now that he's here, I finally feel like a part of me came back from the dead. The heat grows in my belly as his hand dips under my neck and buries itself in my hair which is worn down. He told me once he liked it that way.

My lips move against his in a slow pattern, a simplistic dance of give and take. Our breathing is uneven and harsh, passionate even. My arms seem to have a mind of their own as they reach up and find the sides of Peeta's face. My fingers brush over his skin as his other hand travels slowly along my arm.

I'm burning, more alive than I've felt in months. Maybe a year. Perhaps longer. The girl on fire is burning only for the boy with the bread. Its this burn that leads me to welcoming Peeta's advances with a greater enthusiasm.

Peeta groans and tears his lips away from mine, trailing kisses along my jaw to my neck, where he pushes aside the scarf. The combination of his hot breath and the amazing sensations of his lips on my skin produces an embarrassing moan from my throat.

Its the moan that stops me. The noise was so foreign that I don't know how to react to it. And then the panic sets in.

My hands drop down to Peeta's chest and I pry myself away from him, which isn't too hard since there is no attempt to stop me, and I glance at him, worried. Peeta's eyes are unfocused, in a daze from what had just transpired between the two of us. His hands, now empty, fall to his sides. His cheeks and ears are flushed pink.

Peeta is speechless. I can almost see his brain trying to figure out what is going on. Mine's is trying to do the same thing.

I don't know what to say. I've never known what to say.

So I do what I do best- run out before he can say anything.


	14. Chapter 13: Rabbit

Chapter 13-

I have no idea what I was thinking at that moment. _You weren't thinking about anything, you blithering idiot, _I chastise myself.

So here I am, out in the middle of the woods, sitting on a dying log with my bow and arrows lying next to me against the wood. After I ran out on Peeta, I had gone home, changed into my hunting attire as quickly as possible, and escaped into the woods through my backdoor right when I heard knocking on my front door. I didn't even check to see who it was. There's only two people who knock on my door these days and I really didn't want to see either of them at the moment.

At the moment, I feel absolute disgust at myself. Its right after I promise myself not to hurt Peeta that I do exactly that and push him away. And ran out on him. I squeeze my eyes shut and groan.

I pick up my bow and sling the quiver of arrows over my shoulder before trekking through the trees, trying not to stomp my feet in my frustration. Peeta _must _hate me right now. But he doesn't. He never would.

A rabbit makes the mistake of crossing my path, the first one I've seen in the few hours I've spent here. I load an arrow and pull back the drawstring instinctively. Yet as soon as I do so, I need to put it down. I feel sick to my stomach as the memories of all the people I've shot and killed with a bow resurface.

I sink to the ground, managing to return the arrow to the quiver before the tears began to flow. Does Peeta remember District 13 when he decorates wedding cakes? Does he remember showing me all the different types of bread while we were training for what would inevitably be our deaths?

Another thought crosses my mind. Does he remember the beating he took the day he burnt the bread to save my life?

I set my jaw. If Peeta can take his mother's abuse and still harbor a love for baking, then I should be able to shoot a damn rabbit.

Its not the same. Perhaps my situation is worse since Peeta hasn't exactly killed anyone with a loaf of bread. Baking is far safer. But if he could work through the painful memories, then I could too.

He still manages to give me hope after all this time. I frown as the rabbit blatantly ignores me, nibbling on a strand of dry grass that the frost hadn't killed.

So what does that mean for the two of us? Denying my enjoyment over the kiss would be lying to myself. It felt good. The mere thought of it brings heat to my face.

But were we ready to jump back into this right away? I barely even know if we're even right for each other after all I've put him through.

The kiss had brought a few facts to light. One, that Peeta was still in love with me. Or at least has some kind of feelings for me. Two, that we both didn't exactly hate the kiss. Three, that this changes things. A lot of things. Like our relationship.

A relationship with Peeta. Figures. Even after faking a marriage and a pregnancy, I'm completely terrified of taking that next step simply because none of it was real.

What would it be like if it were real? Would I want to spend mealtimes with Peeta every day? Would I still be able to go out and hunt while he bakes? Would I enjoy his kisses instead of worrying over them?

_Dammit, focus on the rabbit._

I draw my bow quickly before aiming at the rabbit, which miraculously still hasn't moved. The arrow flies after a moment of hesitation and strikes the animal in the upper chest.

I actually hit it. Disbelief leaves me sitting there, blinking, until I snap out of it and yank out my hunting knife. I quickly remove the arrow from the dead rabbit and wipe the gore onto the dead grass. I quickly skin it and throw both the pelt and the meat into my game bag.

My first thought is to go and run back home to show Peeta what I've done. He'd be just as excited, especially after I told him about my previous hunting expeditions. But a pit forms in my gut about confronting him about the kiss, which is sure to be brought up if I face him.

I then think about going to see Greasy Sae, who has dropped by only once because Haymitch has told her about Peeta cooking meals for us. But the kill is messy. And its only a rabbit. I decide to show her once I catch more prey in one outing.

The last person is Haymitch. Yes, half the time he is passed out and lying in a disgusting pile of dirty laundry and empty bottles. But he still manages to haul himself up for my sake. I plan to visit Haymitch after I head home to clean up.

Perhaps he'll know what to do about Peeta.


	15. Chapter 14: Stay Alive

Chapter 14

Haymitch's house is the most disgusting place I have ever set foot in. I nearly slam the door shut as soon as I open it, repulsed by the odor that seeps out from within the confines of the home.

I'm surprised Sae even comes in here. She takes care of all of us, even Haymitch. I pity that such a kind-hearted woman has to put up with a nasty old drunk and a broken huntress every day. Good thing Peeta is back- less work for her.

Shuffling through empty bottles, smelly food wrappers, and dirty laundry, I struggle to keep my breakfast down as it threatens to make a reappearance. I head over to the window and yank the drapes aside. Rays of sunlight are thrown around the room and I immediately spot Haymitch lying on a disgusting, stained couch. He's sleeping, his mouth hanging open and a bottle clasped in one hand. In the other, the knife he always sleeps with.

I throw the window open and thankfully take a few deep breaths of fresh air. The cloying scent of alcohol and rotting food is making my head spin.

Using my toe, I nudge Haymitch's elbow. "Haymitch. Wake up."

He must have really overdone it with the alcohol this time because there's no response. Shaking my head, I stalk over to the kitchen and find a pitcher of water in the fridge. I don't pause as I dump the contents straight on his head.

Haymitch springs to his feet, sputtering and eyes wild. The arm with the knife waves around frantically, slashing at imaginary enemies as I lean back, just out of range of the sharp blade. When he stops flailing, I use the pitcher to knock the knife from his hand. "That's dangerous, you know. If you fall off the couch in a drunken stupor, you could stab yourself."

His eyes flood with recognition then turn cold. "Yes, sweetheart. I'll remember that next time someone throws water on top of me."

I sit near the window because its the only space I can tolerate the offensive smells from his house. "Clean up, will you? This is disgusting." I say.

"Not your house."

"You missed breakfast."

"I had my breakfast. It came in a bottle," he says.

I wrinkle my nose. "You're despicable."

"What do you want, sweetheart?"

Suddenly, I'm not sure if I want to tell him about Peeta. Haymitch has always been a brutally honest, yet mostly rude, advisor. Perhaps I don't want to hear what he tells me. Or maybe he'll just poke fun at me until I leave.

"Come on, I don't have all day." He growls at me like a wounded animal. I reach down and use a finger to flick a soiled shirt on the floor at him to wipe his face off.

"Its Peeta."

He blinks, then sneers. "Finally going to thank me for surprising you at the train station?"

I scowl. His guffaw says it all. "Well then, you're welcome. I knew the boy would be good for you. He got you walking around instead of still holed up in that rocking chair."

"Shut up."

He snorts, using the shirt to mop off most of the water streaming from his hair. "So what? Did you guys enjoy breakfast without me?"

The look on my face must say it all because he starts cackling. "Its not funny," I snarl at him, blushing and irritated. He's howling now, falling back onto the smelly couch as my anger grows. Trust Haymitch to react inappropriately.

When he finally composes himself, his eyes glinting, I'm debating whether or not to make my escape through the window. "So what about the boy? Hopefully you didn't shove him into a vase again."

I look away and he notices my blush. "Ah, so _that's_ what you two were up to."

"Its nothing like that!"

"Then what was it, sweetheart?" he says.

"I don't know! That's why I'm here!" I'm shouting now, but I don't care.

Haymitch shrugs before reaching down and picking up an unopened bottle, popping the top open. "Well, what do you want then?" he says.

"I don't know what to do." I say.

He smirks before taking a long pull. "Look, sweetheart. Anyone can tell that he's still in love with you and going nowhere soon. Don't you think its time you opened up to him instead of shutting him out like you always do?"

I flinch, but don't respond. Haymitch continues. "Yeah, we all know you're scared of getting close to people, love, emotions, babies-"

"What are you getting to, Haymitch?"

"I'm saying that you need to get over those things if you want that boy to still be part of your life." Haymitch looks me in the eyes, serious. Well, he's right about that. Even if we'd been through so much, Peeta won't wait around forever for me.

"How do you feel about him, sweetheart? What do you truly feel for him?"

The question only has one answer. I don't hesitate at all. "That I will die without him."

Haymitch smiles then. He sits back on the tarnished material of the couch and raises his bottle in my direction.

"Here's some advice then. Stay alive."


	16. Chapter 15: Friends?

Chapter 15-

The sun is starting its decent from high in the sky when I leave Haymitch's house. The rays of light hint for a beautiful sunset, one quite rare for so late in the year. Bare tree branches sway against a small breeze as some geese fly through the cold winter air.

I run home so I can start dinner early, planning on using the rabbit I caught earlier as the main course. I have a lot of food in my cupboards thanks to Sae and I figure I should start to make some use of it.

I throw my bow and arrows into the closet near the door as I put my muddy boots on the doormat. My hands are freezing from the cold and I blow warm air through them as I walk into the kitchen.

The rabbit is easy to clean since I skinned it in the woods. I wash the pelt off and hang it outside the back door to dry before returning to cutting the meat into chunks. As I cut the vegetables for the stew, my thoughts return to Peeta.

Haymitch's words ring in my ears. _Here's some advice then. Stay alive. _Funny. I wasn't messing around when I told Haymitch that I couldn't live without Peeta. I hate admitting it, but its true. He's a part of my life I can't imagine not being there. I can't think of any moment where I would rather not have him by my side.

Its true. Relationships scare me more than anything. People get torn from my life. People die. It really shouldn't be too surprising to me, but its hurt more if you tried to protect them. The guilt is the hardest part to swallow. It stays with you.

But I wonder what it would be like for me now. There's nothing to protect anyone from. Nothing will hurt Peeta. Even Haymitch, who I grudgingly admit has a spot in my heart somewhere.

But its the spot that Peeta has that keeps me worried.

Yes, he can take care of himself. But tragedies happen. What would I do without him? _You would most definitely lose it._

There's no question about it. I've given up on everything else. Protecting. My own life. There was nothing left for me in District 12. But now that Peeta is here, he's giving me something to fight for. And I know that if I don't, then I'll be back to where I started- with nothing.

Panic comes back and I find myself setting the stew on an extremely low heat before jamming myself into my boots and dashing over out the door. I need to set things right.

Peeta opens the door slowly, not expecting to have company, but when he sees me, he immediately welcomes me into his house, afraid I'll catch a cold. As he closes the door, I turn around, not bothering to settle myself in his living room.

And I don't know what to say. Again.

"I-"

He shakes his head and starts first. "Katniss, I'm sorry about... about earlier." He's blushing red and refuses to make eye-contact with me. "It was uncalled for and I understand if you're mad at me."  
My jaw is slack and he's probably taking my silence as the way I'm expressing my irritation at the kiss. "I... I shot a rabbit today."

_Wow, real nice, Katniss. _

"That's great," he says, uncomfortable at my change of topics. He's shuffling his feet and trying hard to look happy for me. But its in his eyes. Disappointment. _For not getting an answer?_

"Are you still coming over for dinner?" I say.

He nods quickly. He's upset. _You did it again, you idiot._

"I'm not mad," I say quickly. His eyes flick up to my face for a moment just before I cast mine down at the floor. "I'm just... confused."

Peeta swallows. "Yeah, I know."

We stand there for a while, neither of us moving. I wish I knew what he was thinking right now. Maybe he thinks I'm an idiot. That would make two of us.

Its almost as if the words form themselves and throw themselves off my tongue. "But maybe..." I take a moment to clear my throat when my voice catches. "Maybe we can try being friends?"

I sneak a glance up and see Peeta's blue eyes watching me. "Friends?"

I nod, dreading his response. What if he doesn't want to be friends anymore? What if he thinks we're not good for each other? What if he-

"Okay."

The relief is an immense weight lifted from my shoulders. It's a good start, I think. Being friends. There's an odd fluttering feeling in my stomach, one that seems to emit a warm glow that spreads to my face and causes the corner of my lips to twitch. A smile?

"So... dinner at 9?" Peeta looks like he's trying to mask his glee. I almost laugh, its so comical to see his cheeks struggle to hide an enormous grin.

But at that moment, I decide to do something different. Friends is a good start for two broken people. It is the only good I've had in a long time. And I want to remember it.

Instead of confirming, I walk to his door and grasp the doorknob. As I hold the door open, I turn and see Peeta watching me anxiously. _He thinks I'm going to leave again. _I realize this with a pang.

But this time, I can't do that. I won't do that.

"Come on, Peeta. I've got something to show you."


	17. Chapter 16: Each Other

Chapter 16-

Peeta has to turn off all the stoves and ovens in his kitchen before he leaves his house, so I stand at the door waiting. I know exactly what I want us to do. To celebrate being friends.

He shrugs on a thick jacket before I take his arm. He looks surprised at this contact, but doesn't pull away. "Let's go," he says.

I release his arm when we start walking through Victor's Village. Its still mid-afternoon and the cool air is tempered by the warm sun. I walk purposefully with Peeta following behind, his feet scuffing in the dirt.

"Where are we going?" he asks.

"The Hob," I say. He looks at me, puzzled. But he doesn't argue or ask why. His feet just keep moving.

As we walk through town, people stop their work and begin to stare at us. To Peeta, its nothing to worry about. He simply smiles easily and ignores the questioning gazes around him. But for me, its distracting. I feel like I am being judged for walking with Peeta. What is so interesting about a Mockingjay with broken wings and the baker?

The stares are getting to me. Burning into my neck. My face. From all directions. I grit my teeth. I guess its to be expected, being the face of the rebellion and the co-star of two Hunger Games. But my walk with Peeta no longer feels private.

Peeta must understand because his arm brushes mine as he moves to walk next to me. Close but not touching. The action is comforting. We walk through the staring eyes together, not even bothering to confront anyone.

When we reach the place I want to be, I stop in the middle of the road. I turn to face Peeta who is looking at me expectantly.  
People stream in and out of the dark building. Sharp white lights are temporarily fixed along the ceiling beams of the structure as men hoist themselves up on the roof and fix large metal sheets to form a roof. The preparation for the snow day is evident as they scramble around like ants from an anthill. The Hob, burnt down long ago, is rising from the ashes, flourishing with new life. I can see the merchants conducting business with the people below, readily selling goods or stubbornly bartering.

As I stare at the construction of the Hob, I feel different from when I looked at it before. When it was just a pile of charred planks and ashes. Its different now. Despite the odds, and after so much destruction, it comes back stronger than before. I know what I want to say to Peeta now.

"Did you need to buy supplies for supper, Katniss?" Peeta sounds puzzled as to why I am standing there, just watching as the citizens of District 12 go about their daily business.

I take a deep breath, then begin.

"See these people?" I ask.

Peeta nods. His eyes flicker over to where some children run out of the Hob, laughing and chasing each other until their mother emerges from the Hob and scolds them.

There's that small detail again. That Peeta wants kids and I don't. I decide to put it off and ignore it for now. Its important to get this out there. Its important that he hears me.

"They're rebuilding, Peeta. Despite being torn down, reduced to nothing, losing everything, they're building it back up."

He looks confused. Understandably. All I've done is state the obvious.

"Its nice, Katniss." He says finally. He's looking out at the people again, trying to figure out what I'm telling him. Or perhaps he thinks I'm deranged for dragging him out here to show him this. But I'm not done.

The next part comes out in a rush.

"I want that. To be us. To rebuild ourselves. Together." His head snaps around and those blue eyes lock on mine as I struggle with my words. I can feel my face heat up, but I force myself not to look away.

He doesn't speak for a long moment and I'm beginning to grow uncomfortable as it stretches between us. Does he understand what I mean? I can only hope that he feels the same way. We just agreed to be friends, but can we really help fix each other and heal from our experiences? The experiences that we shared?

"Okay," Peeta says. When I stare at him, taking in what he says, he continues as if he feels obligated to explain.

"We can't fix this with boards and nails, like the Hob. But we can with each other."

"Each other." I echo, feeling a small smile finally grace my lips.


	18. Chapter 17: Rage

Chapter 17

I don't end up picking up some supplies down at the Hob after talking with Peeta because I don't think I'm ready to talk with other people about anything. I can guess what they'll ask me about. And I don't want to hear the prodding questions.

_How are you? Have you been doing alright? _

_How are you coping without Prim?_

I grit my teeth as Peeta and I make our way back to Victor's Village. They don't understand what its like.

I glance over at Peeta and see a small, but genuine, smile plastered to his face. Its been there ever since we left the Hob and I can guess why. We're on a different level now. We've agreed to be there for each other, no matter what. Even if its as friends.

In a way, it makes me happy. I won't have to deal with the complications of kissing Peeta and trying to make sense of what my body seems to be telling me.

But there's also a biting curiosity that gnaws at me. What would it be like to walk with Peeta, but be holding his hand instead? I'm worried that I'm too much of a coward to realize what I want, but I firmly shake the thought from my head.

_Friends is good._

He departs with a quick goodbye and promises to be over right as the sun goes down so he can be there for supper. I stay where I am, watching him, until he disappears into his own house and the door shuts completely.

The stew is nearly done when I step into the house, leaving me with nothing to do until Peeta decides to show up. I end up building a fire in the fireplace, challenging myself to light it only with flint and steel. It effectively burns my spare time and as soon as I have a crackling blaze started, I can hear a knock on the door.

"Its unlocked."

The door opens and Haymitch pokes his disheveled head in. "Heard you were in charge of dinner today," he growls, letting himself in and sitting down near the flames to warm up.

"Sorry, but dinner doesn't come served in a bottle here." I say.

"Funny, sweetheart." He looks miserable, cold. Strangely sober.

"Why are you sober?"

"Why are you so nosey?"

"Because every time you're sober, something bad happens." I say accusingly.

Haymitch snorts. "The boy is bad for you, sweetheart? Am I hearing you correctly?"

"That's not what I meant."

"Really now. How was your little rendevous with him anyways? Saw you run over to his house earlier." His snarky reply rubs me the wrong way.

"I told you. Its not like that." I say.

"Whatever, sweetheart."

"We're friends now," I huff.

"As opposed to...?" He says.

"Go away, Haymitch. This isn't helpful."

He laughs at my reply. "Well, I've got some news for you, sweetheart. You've finally taken a step in the right direction."

"No thanks to you," I growl, even though deep down I know he was partially to do with it.

"You're welcome."

Soon, Peeta comes over with some bread and we all sit to eat. There's a bit more conversation this time around. Haymitch ignores us as he jams food into his mouth while Peeta and I chat about our day.

Its actually Haymitch's idea that we hang out in the living room together. Its hard to believe that the old drunken fool would rather spend time with us than his hoard of bottles at home, but I'm not about decline. We sit and drink hot chocolate that Peeta makes.

Haymitch clears his throat once we're all done with the drinks and leans forward, elbows supported on his knees. "Listen up. There's a train coming to District 12 tomorrow with an escort from the Capitol. There's supposedly quite a bit of news circulating now that Peeta has returned home."

Peeta and I exchange a look. "So what does this mean for us?" I ask slowly.

"They want the two of you to do an interview. A small show for the cameras to let everyone know you're both safe and sound in District 12."

Rage. All I see is red. Is this how Peeta feels when he's having an episode? I suppress the urge to break something. Everything.

"No. I won't do it." My voice comes out steady.

"If Katniss won't, then I agree with her," Peeta adds, his eyes never leaving Haymitch.

Haymitch's face is grim. "You two don't have a choice. Tomorrow, you need to be ready for the two reporters they're sending."

"I can't do that," I snarl then, startling everyone, including myself. "Do you know how hard it is to run away from these bad memories? Memories you can't forget?"

"Of course I do, sweetheart," Haymitch responds, half-angry half-sympathetic. "We're all on the same boat. I don't want this as much as you do. But it was bound to happen. We need to help the new government stabilize the country."

"Easy for you to say. You're not going on camera," I snap, but Peeta lays a hand on my shoulder warningly.

"Haymitch, we'll think about it. I can't promise we will, but-"

Haymitch gets up, his expression weary. "I know, boy. But you really have to consider helping Paylor so the Games don't pop up again."

My blood freezes. "She wouldn't," I gasp, horrified.

Peeta has also stiffened beside me, no doubt from disbelief.

Haymitch's eyes are cold. "If this new government doesn't work out, then whats to stop them?"

I close my eyes. The Games. Coming back. Its all coming back now. All at once. And I can tell its happening to Peeta too because his breathing is shallow.

He abruptly leaves my side, muttering a quick goodbye and apology before disappearing. Haymitch stays a while, but doesn't push his luck. Instead, he ends up leaving too.

The flames in the fireplace have died by the time I open my eyes again.


	19. Chapter 18: Nightmares

Chapter 18

I crawl my way into bed when I finally decide to get off the couch. Haymitch's news is hitting me hard. I can feel only despise towards the Capitol.

I pity Paylor. I really do. The government is incredibly unstable now that the rebels have won the war. Half the Capitol citizens are still supporting the Games, free to express how they feel through speech. They don't fear punishment like the Districts do.

But I'm unstable too. And so is Peeta. There's no one strong enough here in 12 to help Paylor regain control over Panem. She wants us, a hijacked baker and the shell of a huntress, to hold together the country?

A monument cannot remain standing on broken pillars.

Tears fall down my cheeks. Nothing in my life has been fair. The Capitol took everything from me. And now, no matter that it is a 'new' Capitol government, they still ask more from me. In a fit of rage, I grab one of the pillows from my bed and hurl it across the room. It hits the wall before landing on the floor with a light thud.

I'm glaring at the empty wall across from me, but its hard to keep the strength up to stay mad. Instead, I feel my shoulders deflate. I'm just tired. So tired of fighting it.

I fall into a restless sleep. My dreams are haunted by Paylor, calling out Peeta's name at a Reaping for the revived Hunger Games. Peeta, who is the number one target in the Arena. Peeta, who is chased by 11 other Tributes after the Bloodbath.

Peeta, who is slowly tortured to death by Tracker Jackers by faceless Careers.

Blood. Its everywhere. And when I turn around, my surroundings woozy as if I'm in a Tracker Jacker hallucination, Cato towers over me. Laughing. Holding a convulsing Peeta in a tight headlock.

"Go on. Try and save him." He laughs, blood dripping from claws marks that run along the side of his face, giving him a ghastly demeanor. "He's dead though. He always was, right?"

I try to do something. Hit Cato. Something. But I can't even move. The trees around us start to shift shapes and they turn into others. Clove. Marvel. Glimmer. Gloss. Careers.

The last thing I hear is Peeta's scream of agony as Cato violently twists Peeta's head to the right while Clove, Marvel, and Glimmer converge on Peeta's writhing body. Clove- with cruel, curved daggers. Marvel- a glittering spear edged with blood. Glimmer- my silver bow and arrows.

"Katniss! Katniss!"

My name grows louder until I can't stand it. My eyes snap open and I find my arms pinned to my sides. A heavy weight is holding my legs down on the mattress.

Its the blue eyes that catch the moonlight that reassure me that I'm not getting murdered in my sleep.

My heart races, the beats irregularly quick as adrenaline pulses through my veins. I'm panicking, afraid. My hunter's instincts are haywire. Danger. Everywhere.

But when Peeta wraps his arms around me, all I can do is begin to cry. I don't know how he got in here, nor do I really care. He's muttering words of comfort but I can't hear them from the wretched moans and sobs that are breaking free from my throat.

Words spew from my mouth, words that make sentences that I don't even understand. All I know is that Peeta is listening in between comforting me, keeping my head buried next to his neck on his shoulder.

Minutes grow to hours as Peeta sits there, lightly rocking me back and forth as my eyes continue to sting from the salty tears. Eventually, I calm down enough to control the noises pouring out of my mouth. Its almost embarrassing enough when I start to hiccup.

Peeta strokes my hair gently, like my mother used to do when I was sick. He is humming something, tuneless notes. His chest rumbles gently as exhaustion washes over me.

"What happened?" I croak eventually. Moonlight filters through the window as Peeta pulls back, illuminating one side of his face.

"Nightmare. You were screaming." He says. Sheepishly, he adds, "I'm sorry I came in here. You were thrashing around and I didn't want you to hurt yourself."

The words hang in the air. They sink in like needles. Screaming. Thrashing. Those were the least of my problems. But hurting myself? Its true that before Peeta came back to 12, I had some near accidents. Was he really worried I was going to inflict pain on myself? _I'm not suicidal, _I think firmly, but instead, a sense of doubt crosses over me.

Peeta removes his arms from around me now that I'm quiet and calmer. "Go back to sleep, Katniss. We can talk in the morning if you'd like, but I'm-"

"No." Its not an order. Its a plea. "Stay."

He seems to be conflicted as he lays me back on my pillow. "I don't know-"

"Please." The desperation in my voice is so unlike me. I hate it. But I can't control it.

My chest tightens when he slides off the bed, his face masking any emotions, and I'm immediately filled with dread. _He's leaving. _I shouldn't be surprised, but its the sudden hurt that makes the tears threaten to return.

Peeta crosses the room and I try to compose myself, to hold back his name on the tip of my tongue. To stop from calling him back.

He reaches down and picks up the pillow I threw earlier from the floor, returning to where I have curled up on the bed and, after brushing it off, places it down next to mine.

"Always."


	20. Chapter 19: Together

Chapter 19

There's moments in life where you don't know how to feel about something. Like when someone gets you a gift that you don't really need.

Or the moment when you wake up next to Peeta Mellark.

Okay, I may be the only one having done that, but it doesn't change the fact that I've been awake for a good half an hour, trying to figure out what exact shade of gold his eyelashes are. At first, I felt nothing but complete panic when I woke up and realized that I wasn't alone. In fact, I almost gave in to my instinct to protect myself by throwing whatever was there off my bed.

But then I remember last night and guilt floods over me.

I had made him stay. Never mind what made him comfortable, I had begged him to stay with me so the nightmares would go away. It is selfish on my behalf to do something like that to him. Its not something that friends usually do. Sleeping together.

And now, Peeta is laid out on his back, his face peaceful and serene. He looks young, like a little boy, when his face isn't weighed down by memories and stress. I'm overcome with a fierce desire to protect him at all costs, fueled by guilt and debt. I owe him so much. I would've thrown my life away without him, making the ultimate sacrifice of my friends and family die in vain. Now its time for me to take care of him. I had vowed to do so in the Quell and failed. But this time will be different.

I don't want to wake him, but his breathing grows shallow, signaling that he is waking. His eyes flutter open and he takes in a deep breath before turning his head to look over at me.

"Hi."

"Hey," he says. His eyes are still half-closed and a small half-smile emerges from his lips. "Sleep okay?"

"Yeah." Lost. That's how I feel when I look into Peeta's eyes. Lost. But safe.

"Good." He hoists himself up onto an elbow, facing me. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I tense. The thing about my nightmares is that I remember every single second of them, unlike dreams that slowly fade away. "No." I flinch at the hard tone of my voice. _Be nice, he did you a favor._

He nods. Then moves to get off the bed, swinging himself around and turning away from me. "Katniss, we need to talk. Not about your nightmare, but about our... situation."  
I swallow and fiddle with the sheets under my hands. Even though nothing happened last night, I still know what Peeta's talking about. I feel the exact same way- we need to lay down the ground rules. We're friends. That's all. Friends don't wake up in each others arms.

"I'm not good at talking."

"Your nightmares are pretty bad," he mutters solemnly. I don't deny it. I'm a mess when I wake up from those terrors. Cold sweat. Trembling. Hyper-alert. Its so tiring that it drains most of my energy right before I even start my day.

"So..." We both hesitate, not wanting to say it first. But I know Peeta will. Because he's better at words than I am.

"We should sleep together. Just sleeping." He clears his throat nervously. "I have them too."

"The nightmares?" Its no surprise that he does. I don't know why I even asked.

His eyes are sad. "Every night."

I wish there was some way to take away those nightmares from him. I don't care if mine are already unbearable. I just want to take away his pain.

"Just sleeping," I agree quietly. He adds, "But in every other way, we're just friends."

For some reason this hurts me. I'm not quite sure why, maybe its that he's putting up a solid wall between us. I have to remind myself that it may not be forever, but I also have to tell myself that its completely up to Peeta if he wants to let me in and vice versa.

After we finish our agreement, Peeta gets up and straightens his wrinkled clothes. "We have an interview today," he reminds me gently. I shake my head slowly. "I don't want to."

"Me neither," he says. "But Haymitch is right."

"He always is." I confirm. He kneels down on the other side of the bed, where I'm sitting, knees brought up to my chest.

"We'll do this together," he promises, taking his hands and finding mine buried in the sheets.

I look at him carefully. I'm still reluctant to pull through with the Capitol's wishes, but I'll do anything with Peeta by my side.

"Together," I agree, locking my fingers with his.


	21. Chapter 20: Surprise

Chapter 20

Peeta and I decide to delay the Capitol interview as much as possible by staying in the house. He runs downstairs to fetch some leftover stew from last night's dinner for breakfast and we spend the morning mostly talking about District 13.

"I don't think I'd ever want to go back there, even if its just to visit," I say as Peeta thoughtfully chews a particularly tough piece of rabbit. "There's so many memories there that aren't worth unearthing."

Peeta's response is short. "I would." He finishes chewing and swallows, explaining. "I don't particularly dislike the place. I can imagine what it would've been like for you. The whole Mockingjay propaganda. Training. The hijacking." I flinch. I can't help it. I wait for the worst from Peeta when he mentions the hijacking, but he seems to be fine.

"You'd really go back?" I state numbly. Peeta shrugs. "But I don't think I'm going anywhere soon," he replies carelessly.

"Why?" I frown at this. Peeta should be able to go anywhere he wants. Its me who is confined to District 12, by orders of Paylor, for my own safety.

Peeta is about to answer when the bedroom door flies open with a bang. Haymitch's eyes are apologetic. "Sorry, sweetheart, but they really couldn't wait any longer."

He is thrown aside by a pair of pale green hands. "Katniss, your eyebrows!" Venia bursts past Octavia who thrusts Haymitch out of the doorway. Flavius follows quickly, carrying bags upon bags of supplies, no doubt meant for me.

Peeta gives me a sympathetic look before Venia's face pops into view. They are all still wearing ridiculous Capitol fashions, but I can tell their ordeal in District 13 has left them all changed. They're quieter than before, but they still smile when they see me. Hot anger pulses through me as I think of what Coin had done to them- tortured over a bit of extra food. They didn't know any better, yet they were put through terrible treatment just because they were Capitol hostages. And they still trusted me.

I was the only one who treated them like humans when they were mistreated in 13. I quickly add them on my mental list of people I keep fighting for.

Peeta is dragged out of my room by Flavius, a mass of alarmingly orange curls banishing Peeta from the bedroom. The sight is hysterical, but as soon as the door closes, I miss having him near me. Talking to Peeta offers a sense of calm for my crazed mind.

The prep crew scatters then proceeds to rip out every strand of hair that seems to offend them. I get a reprieve when they dump me into my bathtub they had filled with an odd greenish liquid. It annoys me that Peeta really doesn't have that much grooming to endure. But then again, he didn't have to worry about his eyebrows growing out.

As they put the finishing touches on my makeup, they are talking a little bit more. More confidently. But still just as foolishly. "You're going to look beautiful again, darling!" Venia trills. They're such total idiots, but I let them apply layers upon layers of brushstrokes as Flavius deals with my 'dry, unkempt, tangled' hair.

When Flavius is finally finished taming my hair, Octavia walks in with a large clothing bag. "Here. You're to wear this for the interview later this afternoon," she explains. I'm hardly listening as I spot a name tag on the hanger.

_Property of the Capitol: Cinna_

Octavia must notice this. She's quiet for a moment before she says softly, "There's thousands of outfits for you, Katniss. They're all kept in Cinna's private storage in the Capitol." I nod, trying to hold back my tears. Even after death, he's still managed to find a way into my life.

They leave so I can change into my clothes, Venia reminding me quickly to blot my tears carefully with a tissue as not to ruin her hard work. The zipper glides easily down as I remove the garment inside.

Its astounding. Each time I see one of Cinna's creations, I think that they can't possibly get any more incredible than the one before. But he always seems to find a way to make the next have its own extravagant elegance.

The dress is silver, a long one that reaches the floor and trails behind me a bit. It sparkles when lights hit it, giving the impression of snowflakes falling from the sky. It shimmers at every twist and turn the fabric makes, almost as if it were glowing. The neckline dips low in a V formation, meeting at a solid silver replica of my Mockingjay pin.

Its not radiant as the sun. But instead, rivals the moon.

There's mixed feelings about wearing the dress, however. A sick feeling in my stomach develops as I realize why. _Snowflakes. It looks like snow. _A vision of President Snow's face covered in blood suddenly blooms in my mind. I close my eyes tightly and will it away.

_He's dead. He's dead and he's never coming back._

There's also the fact that I owe it to Cinna to wear it. Its probably tailored exactly to my height and will flatter every unflattering curve on my body.

Then I'm angry at myself. I'm angry at Snow. And I'm angry at myself for holding any shred of doubt that I should wear this dress just because it reminds me of a dead person. I slip into the dress easily, adjusting the smooth fabric around my waist. I stand in front of a floor-length mirror that my prep team hauled in, impressed.

The girl in the mirror isn't the girl on fire. No, its almost like she has conquered ice instead of flames. I'm stunning, shining like fresh snow and icicles. The dress compliments my stormy grey eyes, making them flash dangerously under the smoky grey makeup that Venia swirled dramatically around them.

The girl on fire has been transformed.

Just as I finish sliding the other strap over my shoulder, the door opens. The mirror reflects Peeta poking his head inside, glancing around before resting on my backside.

The dress has left nothing hidden from the eye. The dress criss-crosses in the back, leaving skin exposed tantalizingly. I mentally thank Cinna, wherever he is, as Peeta's jaw goes slack.

Twirling around slowly, I turn to face Peeta, who hasn't moved from the doorway at all. "Well?" He blinks, broken out of his trance. He walks in completely, dressed in dark gray pants and a white shirt, open at the top. His eyes pop out more than usual as I realize that his prep team has lined his eyelids with silver. At first, I find myself wanting to wipe it off completely, but the more I stare at it, the more I adjust to it.

He approaches slowly, holding his arms down at his sides. "He's done it again," he laughs as his eyes slowly take in every detail of the dress, resting at the silver Mockingjay between my breasts. "You're beautiful."

The room suddenly grows hot. Peeta still hasn't moved his gaze and I squirm, feeling that familiar heat pooling in my belly. He's close enough to reach out and touch the Mockingjay if he wants to. We're both standing there, taking each other in, the tension growing.

I want to know. The heat. He has to feel it too. Its there only when we're together. I wonder briefly if this was how Finnick felt when he talked about Annie. Jealousy hits then, unwanted and brief because I push it down. I'm jealous of the certainty. The certainty of their love.

But is what I'm feeling for Peeta really love? Every time I see him, it makes me long for his touch. To stare into his eyes and get lost in that gentle blue. Is that really what love feels like? But everything is so damn complicated when it comes to my own feelings that I don't want to risk taking a chance.

But Peeta would know how he felt.

The door opens again just as I begin debating with myself whether or not to ask Peeta how he feels about me, effectively causing Peeta to take a few steps back so he's a respectable distance away.

Haymitch is scowling as he sits on the bed before us. Peeta glances over at me before sighing, "Just spit it out, Haymitch. You look like you've got something bitter in your mouth. Unless its alcohol, I'm just going to assume its bad news."

"Well, what tipped you off?" Haymitch growls. He's been cleaned up too. "Guess what, sweetheart? Better get your game face on because interviews are long gone. "

"What do you mean?" I say.

"They tricked us. We're headed to the little surprise party the Capitol kindly sent over here instead." Its no surprise that he's in a bad mood now. But he's not done.

He sneers before adding,

"And lover boy, here, is your date."


	22. Chapter 21: Chariots

Chapter 21

The details of our surprise party were sworn to secrecy by our prep team, who confess once its apparent that Haymitch found out. "Its going to be a splendid party," Venia protests as Haymitch narrows his eyes coldly. "Its a nice big one for your entire District! No one even knew about it until this morning when everyone was invited."

"Invited?" Peeta looks surprised.

"Oh yes, Paylor had some Capitol representatives come for your televised appearances," Venia continues. "A Capitol official will even meet you right when you reach the Justice Building where your party is! Its all just so grand!" Octavia chimes in. "I mean, really. You should be ecstatic! A party!"

I roll my eyes. But I can't hate them. We've all been through our own hell and back. Its really not their faults that they were sent her to make us look pretty.

Haymitch growls, not quite as threatening since he isn't holding a bottle. "The sooner its over, the better."  
I can't help but agree. My prep team bursts into protests as Haymitch argues with them and I turn to Peeta. His brow is creased in thought as he moves off to the side of the room. What could he be thinking?

I join him instinctively. There's no room in that argument for me since Haymitch seems to be angry enough for all three of us.

Peeta looks up at me as I stand near him. "Are you okay?" I ask, biting my lip.

"Yeah. We should've expected it," he says. I can't help but agree with him. In my mind, I knew that an interview wouldn't be enough to help Paylor get the support she needs to stabilize Panem. But I didn't think that she would actually push us for more.

"Are you? I mean, about the party?"

"You mean, how long can I stay nice around people before I take off for the woods?" I mean it as a joke, but Peeta is looking at me earnestly. "I don't know. I'm not good at making friends."

Peeta's lips tilt up and he wraps an arm around my shoulders comfortingly. Warmth radiates off of him as I close my eyes and relax into his side. "Just get through tonight and we can be back on our way tomorrow," he mumbles.

I sense the misery in his voice. The misery I share. Once again, our relationship is not exactly clear with Paylor forcing me and Peeta to attend as a couple. Despite our agreement to strictly be friends, acting like lovers has its complications.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly, though I'm not exactly sure what for.

I find myself moving so I'm standing directly in front of him, saying, "We'll just see where today takes us." He nods while I think about what I have just said. Technically, I have just forgiven him for anything that we might be forced to do tonight. Kisses. Innocent touches. The acts for the camera. But underneath all that, I had also underlined the fact that we're still figuring out what we are, even if we say we're friends _and_ play the part as lovers.

We're taken to our 'party' by, ironically, a chariot, drawn by white horses instead of charcoal black ones from the Tribute parade. Peeta offers me his hand when we walk over, and I take it gingerly as he helps me step up into the vehicle. He climbs in next to me, pulling his hand away to grab onto the handrail.

But I don't want him to let go. I can feel the memories coming back for both of us. Peeta's muscles are clenched and my breathing goes from normal to rapid. I'm the one that grabs his hand this time.

"Don't." The word is strangled, but I manage to pull his gaze over to mine. "Please."

His eyes clear. The effect is has on me is calming as his fingers tighten around mine. "Don't let go," I murmur under my breath. His hands seem to be pulsing energy through to my fingers, empowering us both.

"I don't plan on it," he says back just as the chariot lurches forward. The chariot takes us through town and people from all over the District wave and call out to us. Peeta puts on an easy smile and even waves back to some while I manage to plaster a serene tight-lipped smile on my face.

I'm light-headed by the time the chariot reaches the Justice Building where a large crowd has gathered. Now that I can see the entire population of District 12 present for our interviews and the ceremony, I see what Haymitch means by the District is being repopulated. I hardly recognize any of them, not that I really paid attention to people before.

Peeta's arm suddenly raises mine, exactly the same way we had done during the first Games parade. District 12 erupts into cheers as I clench his hand tighter. I no longer feel broken. I no longer feel empty.

I'm radiant as the sun with the boy with the bread by my side.

Peeta steps carefully down from the chariot, favoring his bad leg. I flash a look at him, wondering if he's in pain from the prosthetic leg, but he merely shakes his head and places his hands on either side of my waist, lifting me out of the chariot easily. The female population of the District is practically in tears when he winks at me and wraps an arm around my waist. I simply ignore them, relishing the feel of Peeta so close to me once again.

"You're to come with me, sir. Ma'am." I sigh as a Capitol official taps me on the shoulder, turning to follow obediently. But my mouth drops open when I see exactly who it is.

He's different, yes. More professional. Wearing a Capitol made suit, a gray uniform issued to all Capitol officials, yet adorned with badges and medals that told otherwise. More important. But he's still tall and lanky. Still has dark hair and those stormy gray eyes that match mine. The olive skin.

"Gale?"

He cocks his head and removes his hand from my shoulder. I can't find the words to say to him. Do I hate him? Do I hit him? Should I demand why he's here? Should I-

"Sorry, do I know you?"


	23. Chapter 22: Detonation

Chapter 22

I don't know who is more surprised. Me. Or Peeta. Or Gale. Well, probably not Gale. He looks confused, his eyes narrowing in thought. Peeta is tense beside me, his arm falling from around my waist to his side.

I am simply dumbfounded. "Gale, its me. Katniss."

He turns his eyes down respectfully, and responds, "I'm sure there's no one in Panem who _doesn't_ know the Mockingjay."

My world is coming down. He honestly doesn't know who I am, and he's obviously trying very hard to maintain his professionalism as we stand by the chariot, exchanging shocked, anxious glances. Peeta speaks next. "Gale, you're Katniss's friend," he says slowly. The words are short, measured. He's testing Gale and himself.

"I would be honored for a chance to get to know such an iconic war hero," he responds humbly as he waits patiently for us to follow him. His eyes are bleak, honest.

I'm hurt beyond words. First, Peeta. With the hijacking.

And now Gale.

Its almost unbearable to the point where I'm beginning to feel dizzy. My best friend for years before all of this happened has no idea who I am. Doesn't remember hunting together, surviving together. Depending on each other.

Peeta, detecting distress from both me and Gale, quickly ushers us up the steps of the Justice Building, wrapping an arm around my shoulders to ward off approaching reporters. I numbly let him lead us.

Its when I spot Paylor as we walk through those metal doors that my emotions come flooding out, an unstoppable force. "What happened to him?" I demand, crossing the room with quick, purposeful steps. "Why doesn't he know who I am? What did you do?"

Paylor's bodyguards, a new sort of Peacekeeper, quickly move to stop me, but she motions that they stand their ground. Hands grab me from behind as I'm about to lunge at her. I can't contain my rage. I know the Capitol has something to do with it. The Capitol has taken every other thing that mattered in the past.

"Let me go!" I snarl. Haymitch's voice rings out behind me. "I told you she was going to be upset," he growls out. Paylor nods, having the decency to appear sheepish. I fight against his firm grip on my arms, but Haymitch holds tight.

I'm livid with anger. It burns inside me, the flames rising up and igniting the girl on fire once more. "Tell me!"

Its Peeta who steps forward to deal with me. Its only when Peeta's arms wrap around me that Haymitch lets go and I collapse, the weight of the moment flooring me. Whispers circulate around the room as I struggle to fight the tears that carve paths down my cheeks. I don't care about my makeup anymore. Not when Gale has forgotten who I am. I mean nothing to him now. Peeta murmurs quietly into my ear until I quiet down.

Paylor has moved so she is right next to Peeta, still flanked by armed guards. She is looking at me in concern and it is only now that I am so close to her that I can see the stress lines creasing her face.

"Katniss, I'm sorry. I'll explain first, but it is of utmost importance that we complete the interviews and appearances according to schedule," she says quietly. I'm silent, glaring at her. But I can't help feeling a bit of pity for Paylor. Here she is trying to piece together the country that I had broken apart and I'm doing little to help here at the moment.

"When the war ended, Gale felt badly about... an incident. He moved to the Capitol to continue his work for us." I feel sick. I don't want to hear this from Paylor. I want to hear it from Gale, himself. But Gale has left the room, off to service the Capitol again, I suppose.

"We had just honored him with high-rank statuses because of his war efforts, granting him access to any sort of supplies he needed for his continued research and contributions to the Capitol."

"You mean, you were having him build weapons," I croak, horrified. I should have known though. Gale was very smart. Almost too smart for living in District 12. He knew more about mechanics and inventions than some in District 3, and its no surprise that he was a desirable recruit for the new Capitol's advances.

Paylor nods. "There was something... off about Agent Hawthorne when he came to us, but he insisted it was just the stress of the war taking its toll on him. We put careful surveillance on him when we sent him off to District 2 to continue weapons development."

I want to clap my hands over my ears and stop listening. He went to them because of Prim. I want to scream, to hide myself in a closet where no one will ever have to do with me ever again. But Peeta presses his cheek against my right temple, bringing me back from the brink. I don't understand how he knows, but just when I'm about to break, he's always there to strengthen me.

She continues, her brows furrowing from tension. "Hawthorne was in 2 when he had an accident. He was working on a new explosive, one that would be used in District 12 so that mine explosions would be safer. He often spoke about a mine incident that changed his life."

I close my eyes tightly, but nod for her to go on. The explosion that kill his father. My father. Two great men. Changing my life forever. The pain of losing them ebbs away quickly with Peeta's arms around me and Paylor willing me to finish listening.

"We're still not exactly sure what happened. He was working on the explosive when he suddenly lost control. We dispatched Peacekeeper officials as soon as we noticed his behavior, but he had already set off some sample explosives in his apartment."

"You mean, he blew himself up?" Even Peeta looks doubtful.

Paylor looks grim. "Not exactly. We're not sure if it was a suicide attempt or not. But he was exposed to 2nd degree burns, minor lacerations from debris, and a major concussion when he landed from the explosions."

The images flash through my mind. Gale working on some sort of contraption. The anger. Throwing aside whatever he was creating. Detonating every experiment he was working on. Something set him off, but whatever it was was enough to injure him.

"Is it permanent?" I whisper. I can't feel my fingers, focusing on the cold tile floor beneath my knees. Peeta hugs me to him tightly, sliding his hands down my arms. "You're trembling," he says.

Paylor hesitates, before muttering, "The doctors have been unable to return his memory since he was released from the hospital. There was no coma, but they suspect brain damage, which resulted in the memory loss."

Gale. Determined, hard-headed Gale. Why would he do that to himself? He, out of all people, knew what those explosives could do. Yet he detonated them without hesitation.

I draw in a shaky breath. "Let me see him."

Paylor's eyes are sympathetic, but she protests gently, "The interviews-"

"I see him, then I'll do your publicity shoots."

She hesitates. Peeta's arms stop moving along my arms. Everyone in the room is holding their breath.

"Very well. Take her to Agent Hawthorne."


	24. Chapter 23: Know

Chapter 23

I don't know who to feel more sorry for. Peeta, Gale, Haymitch, Paylor, or myself. I wish I could cross myself off the list. But I can't do it. Because Prim is gone.

Paylor, I realize, is barely holding up under her own duties to the new government of Panem. I haven't the first idea on how to run a government that has been shattered into pieces, let alone piece it together. Shame rushes over me when I realize how difficult it must be to root out the rest of Snow and Coin's supporters on top of that.

Peeta. I will always feel sorry for Peeta because he has to deal with me. Because he always tries to protect me. To save me. Because he is so good and kind and I always end up doing something that slaps him in the face. Because he fights the venom every day and comes out victorious.

Haymitch is someone I probably shouldn't feel sorry for. But I do. It isn't his fault that he was thrown into the Games and lost his entire family due to the fact he wouldn't submit to Snow. But I partially believe that he didn't have to turn to alcohol to relieve the pain. On the other hand, everyone deals with their grief differently. I shouldn't judge- I have Peeta still. And Peeta has me. Haymitch has no one. But that's what me and Peeta are here for.

Gale, despite his memory loss, seems alright. As I walk with Peeta to the room Gale is supposedly in, I lose myself in thought. Gale forgets things, but how much does my best friend remember? Ex-best friend. Hunting partner. Ex-hunting partner. Ally. None of the words fit for him. And I can't seem to place my emotions for him into any of these categories.

Nor do I really know what I'm feeling. Do I still hate him for something he may or may not remember? Does he know that he created the bombs that blew up my sister? Does he realize that his genius plan caused the war to be won at the price of thousands of deaths, including young children?\

As we reach the doorway, the Peacekeepers stand at the sides of the doorway and wait. I turn to Peeta and I don't have to see his face to know that he's hurt. "Peeta..." I trail off, not knowing what to say to him.

His jaw clenches tightly. He refuses to bring his gaze down to meet mine. "He's in there," he says quietly.

I reach up with my right hand and lay it gently across his cheek. Even if I don't know how to put my feelings into words, I know that I can still reassure him that I will never leave him.

"Do you want to come in with me?" I ask this even though he looks like he'd rather be anywhere but here at the moment. He shakes his head firmly, his golden locks falling across his eyes. "I'll wait here," he says, quietly.

My fingers trace the side of his face carefully. His eyes carry the expression of a kicked puppy, and I feel terrible, as if I'm the one that dealt the blow. "Peeta, this doesn't change anything," I mumble.

He looks up then, his eyes betraying his sadness. "Yes, it does."

The Peacekeeper interrupts us then. "You have 10 minutes until your interviews start. I suggest you hurry, because your prep team is on its way." He doesn't say this rudely, glancing at the door quickly.

I open the door, but look back over my shoulder at Peeta, who leans up against the wall, looking like he's going to cry.

Gale is standing near a wooden desk, frowning down at some sort of paper on its surface. As I get closer, I see that it is a blueprint of some sorts.

His head tilts up and he notices my approach. "Ms. Everdeen, I wasn't expecting you," he says, moving to cover up the designs. He stops when I place my hand on the edge of the paper, preventing him from doing so.

"Gale, what do you remember?"

"People seem to be asking me that a lot nowadays," he says to himself. He motions to a chair nearby. "Please, take a seat."  
Its odd, seeing Gale act so politely to me. So distant from me. When I'm seated comfortably, he begins. "Not much. The doctors ask me if I slowly get the memories back, but I honestly haven't had much improvement I suppose."

"So what do you know?"  
He chuckles. "My name. I used to live in District 12. My father used to be a coal miner but he died. I still have my mother, my two brothers- Rory and Vick, and Posy. They all still live there. I don't remember much about 12. Maybe because I was young. I joined the war efforts in 13 when the rebellion began, but I don't remember much about that either."

"You don't remember life in 12?" It almost seems unreal, forgetting those four years we spent together. Hunting. Depending. Always a team. Despite what had happened, I would always cherish those years if nothing else.

He shakes his head. "Nothing interesting happens in 12 anyways," he says, laughing. "12 got bombed, which made me join the war. But I don't remember much about 13 either. Its all pretty blurry, but I'm pretty sure I just did the same old thing that I'm doing now- designing weapons and machines."

So he only remembers the main idea, not the finer details. "Do you remember any kind of event during the war? Anything out of the ordinary?"

He thinks hard before saying, "Well, Mellark was taken as a prisoner when he came back hijacked. I remember you had to kill Coin. And then the war was over. I spent almost all my time in the weapons lab I guess."

Its almost as though his memory is sprinkled here and there with these turning points. As if he was watching from the sidelines rather than by my side at all times in 13. It both disgusts and alarms me. He doesn't remember coming with our Star Squad in the Capitol. He doesn't remember Prim being blown to pieces, burning. He doesn't remember anything.

Which leaves me wondering whether or not I can hold the blame over Prim's death over his head. Part of me tells me that if he hadn't created either the bomb or the bombing plans, Prim would still be alive.

"You know, I'm sorry."

"What?" I ask.

"You look so sad. I must have done something in the past that I've forgotten about." He looks genuinely sorry. "And it must have hurt you deeply."

I'm shocked. "I- You're right. But there's nothing to be done about it now."

He looks at me carefully. "Was it bad?"

I pause. Should I let him carry the weight of his actions? I should. But I can't.

"Its in the past," I respond simply before getting to my feet.

Gale nods, but is distracted. "I wish I remembered so I could really apologize," he admits, shifting the blueprints on the table. "You looked so upset."

I shrug. The pain of losing Prim is fresh again, but I can't seem to expose it in the form of anger. I'm just sad that she's gone. "I have to go," I mumble, excusing myself from the room. Gale just lets me go.

Peeta is still waiting outside, his head staring down at the ground. His shoulders slump over as he clenches and unclenches his fists in his pockets.

Seeing him so depressed over what is happening with me and Gale makes my heart wrench painfully. I only wish he understood that this didn't change us. That I would never change my mind about having him in my life.

So when Peeta looks up, I throw myself into his arms and hug him tightly. He barely manages to keep us both righted, thanks to the wall he's leaning against, his arms instinctively catching me around my waist. When his fingers rest on the exposed skin of my back, it sets me off again.

The hunger is back. The hunger I felt in the cave and in the Quell and when Peeta kissed me right when he got back from 13. It ignites a fire within me, and I tilt my head up quickly so my lips collide with his.

He seems completely off guard, jerking his head back a little, but I refuse to let that stop me. I kiss him hard, passionately. Trying to convey to him that I don't feel that way for Gale. Only for him.

His lips part slightly for him to inhale a shaky breath, and I take the opportunity to deepen the kiss. My tongue traces his bottom lip instinctively. I can hear the voices in my head begging Peeta to respond in some way.

Its only when his mouth begins to move slowly against mine and his hands move to touch the skin on my back that I begin to burn intensely for him. I'm arching against him, pressing my body against his and forcing him to straighten up.

His kisses trail from my mouth along my jaw to my ear, where he teases the soft skin there with gentle nips. I'm gasping now, burying my head in his shoulder where I'm suppressing the urge to groan from the amazing sensations he's creating. When his lips meet mine again, I don't hesitate to take his head in my hands, holding him closer.

Our kisses are feverish and leave us wanting more when we finally pull away. Peeta doesn't move his hands from where they lay against my skin and I savor the way his soft skin feels against my back. He's staring down at me, panting. We both are, actually. His eyes are a hazy blue, like fog over the blue waters of District 4.

He takes a deep breath and huffs, "There's no cameras around you know."

I just smile and take his hands in mine, holding him close and looking him directly in the eyes.

"I know."


	25. Chapter 24: Out Loud

Chapter 24

"That's all very heartwarming, sweetheart, but we've got a show to put on and you're delaying it."

Peeta has a slight smile on his face while my signature frown makes its way across my lips. "Save it for Paylor, Haymitch," I growl as Peeta pulls me into his arms. "You'll get the show."

"Come on, sweetheart. Think about Panem. You're the Mockingjay who started the spark-"

"I've done enough for the country," I almost snarl then, but the comfort of Peeta's arms lessens the threatening tone, so it sounds more like a grumble. Haymitch gives us a hard look. "You're not going to back out of this now, are you, sweetheart? You got to see your friend. Now you get to keep your part of the deal."

Peeta nods and nudges me towards Haymitch. "Your prep team will be here soon. I'll see you at the interviews then," he says, before he leans down and places a quick kiss on my forehead. _The forehead?_

"Okay." Haymitch pulls me along after him down the hall before shoving me into a room nearby. He looks smug.

"Wipe that off your face."

"What?" he says.

"That look."

It deepens. "So you and the boy, eh?"

"Shut up." I walk into the adjoining doorway towards my prep team, who appear horrified at my smeared make-up and lip gloss.

"At least I wasn't sucking face-" I slam the door shut on his face, but not before my prep team overhears. They gape at me before Venia lets out a shrill squeal of excitement and grabs me. "Why didn't you tell us?!"

Flavius looks offended while Octavia merely gets to work on my damaged makeover. "You act like you despised Peeta's company! Why didn't you consult us? We could have given you fantastic advice!"

I balk, thinking about their over-extravagant garments and fashions. Peeta would be horrified if I approached him wearing whatever they would dress me in.

After they finish my makeup and reiterating their continued support of me and Peeta's relationship, my prep team release me, giving me their approval as they deem me acceptable for national television.

I'm ushered into the press room by some Capitol officials, their pressed gray suits rough as they brush against my skin. Gale is one of them, but I do my best not to look at him. There's something about _why_ Gale got ticked off enough to blow up his experiments that bothers me.

Instantly, I'm showered with the flashes of cameras and shouting reporters converge on the table I am being seated at, throwing questions my way. "Miss Everdeen! What do you expect to see from the new Panem government?"

"Katniss! How is District 12?"

"What happened to your mother? Are you two close after the war?"

Paylor walks in then, motioning for the reporters to back down and settle back into their seats. "Miss Everdeen will answer questions shortly. She is to speak to Caesar Flickerman first."  
I immediately spot Caesar in the crowd, his hair a flaming orange similar to Flavius's, sitting near the front. He's surrounded by camera crews, ready for filming.  
I notice the empty chairs to my left and right and wonder where Haymitch and Peeta have gone, but I can't dwell on it. Caesar is taking the seat to my left.

"Katniss! It is so good to see you again." His smile blinds me as he grins obnoxiously.

"Its good to see you too, Caesar," I lie. This is the last place I want to be.

He sits back in the chair, a camera-friendly position. "Tell me, what have you been up to since the war ended? We haven't seen much about you in the last month!"  
My heart is pounding. All of Panem is watching the broadcast hungrily. I have to lie effectively if I'm going to help Paylor. "Well, its been hard the last month. I'm still recovering from the after-affects of the war. But it is good to see District 12 rebuilding. There's been significant progress since I last saw it." _Good. That was honest._

Caesar nods solemnly. "Yes, every District has been rebuilding well. It is good to hear that your home District is recovering after the bombing."

My throat closes up, imagining the houses exploding at the impact of bombs and flames erupting from every corner. I can only nod stiffly in response and try to keep my expression believable.

"Now." Caesar leans forward, his hands clasped together as he rests his chin on them. "You are aware that Peeta Mellark has been released from the Capitol as of late?"

There it is. Now I really have to shine.

"Yes, I was there when he got off the train." I see some reporters faces' soften while others scribble down my words on paper pads. Good.

Caesar looks touched. "How have the two of you coped without each other? Wasn't it hard?"

I pause, gathering my thoughts. "Peeta and I were both... damaged after the war. It was best if Peeta left to go to the Capitol for rehabilitation while I went back to 12." I stop there, but Caesar motions for me to elaborate on the actual question. _Damn._

"It was definitely difficult without him," I manage out, stammering. I can feel thousands of eyes burning on my skin. "I went through so much with him. It only makes sense-"

I stop, suddenly wanting to keep this piece on information secret from Panem. From prying eyes. From everyone. If anyone is going to hear it first, its going to be Peeta.

_It only makes sense that he will always be a part of my life that I don't want to let go of._

Then I'm questioning whether or not that's the right step to take. Its hard to deny that my feelings for Peeta have changed drastically in the past few years. He's saved my life, countless times. He is my hope. The dandelion in the spring.

_But I know for certain that I can't live without him._

I must have spaced out because the reporters in front of me are gaping, waiting.

_Oh crap._

"Did I say that out loud?" I mutter to Caesar, raking my gaze across the crowd.

In response, the reporters surge from their seats.


	26. Chapter 25: Protect

Chapter 25

Caesar spends the next few moments trying to calm the reporters, but it is borderline futile. My accidental confession has sparked a torrent of questions concerning me and Peeta.

I sit back and watch as the security lining the stage has to push at the prodding microphones and the reaching cameras. Paylor looks unfazed by the attention. In fact, she probably expected it.

But as soon as the reporters' frenzy dies down, Caesar immediately launches into the questions that Panem wants answers for. "So, Katniss. Obviously, you have feelings for Peeta, I assume?"

I hesitate, not sure exactly what to say. I'm absolutely sure that Peeta is watching this from behind the scenes. In fact, I'm sure Haymitch is trying as hard as I am to figure something out. Something that will be believable to both the citizens and to Peeta.

Its difficult. On one hand, the citizens need something to idolize. To follow. The distraction would help Paylor rebuild Panem effectively. But they wouldn't believe me if I lied on camera. And what would the consequences be? Riots? Violent backlash?

Yet, on the other, I didn't want to hurt Peeta. I know I kissed him after speaking to Gale, and I know he's probably as confused as I am now about where we stand. Friends don't exactly lock lips in a passionate embrace. The very thought makes me nauseous.

However, I didn't regret it. Not one bit. Instead, I rather enjoyed kissing Peeta. It reminded me of all those times we supported each other. When I did, in fact, feel that feeling that only Peeta can ignite in me.

Its only then that Caesar's booming voice brings me back to the present. "How about we bring Mr. Mellark out here to help her explain?" I hadn't spoken a word in response to his question, staring numbly out into the crowd as I swam in my own thoughts.

The reporters cheer as Peeta is ushered on-stage. He is as good an actor as any- smiling for the crowd, waving to reporters who get caught up in his presence. He even sends a few winks towards the female reporters near the front, who shriek in response. For some strange reason, that bothers me.

He takes his place on my left, reaching immediately for my hand as our gazes lock. I'm struck then and there that I don't know what Peeta is thinking either. Perhaps he's also putting up a show for the cameras and not revealing his true feelings. With the hijacking and memory loss, it is hard to tell.

His hand squeezes mine gently as I move my gaze downwards to his fingers.

"So! Peeta. Tell me. How have you been since the end of the war?"

Peeta's lips tilt upwards into a smile, but his eyes are blank. "Well, Caesar, it was bad. I can't say that it was pleasant dealing with the venom. Being borderline murderous over the girl you've loved since you were young." There's some gasps at this comment, but I refrain from exploding at them in anger. That's not even the worst part and here they are, reacting as if some horrible fate had been cast down on Peeta and I.

Perhaps it has been.

"I'm sure you've all heard of Tracker Jackers and their venom. But to be injected with it? Enough that can drive a person out of their own body?" He shakes his head, but carries on, despite the _horrified_ expressions on the reporters' face. "I only wish that it didn't make me kill people."

"It wasn't you, Peeta," a female reporter shouts from the crowd. My blood boils. But before I can leap to Peeta's defense, he says, "Oh yes, it was. I may not have been myself, but the blood is still on my hands. There's no one else to blame."

Everyone is quiet then. I can almost feel Peeta's pain radiating off of him, even though he's maintaining a steady grimace on his face. Briefly, I wonder how long he can actually hold this expression, keeping those reporters at bay for the both of us.

For both of us.

Suddenly, I'm worried for Peeta. This acting has to be taxing on him, even more so because I'm such a terrible actress. I feel awful. I owe him. He protects me, even after he's broken. When I can barely protect myself.

That feeling comes back. The fierce determination. The fire. The spirit of the Mockingjay. _Protect him. _It rings in my head, echoing. Yet instead of making me feel hollow, it fills me with duty. I'm here to protect him now.

So I lean over, slipping a hand from his grasp around his neck and pulling him closer before pressing my lips to his.

I'm not gentle, not even as the reporters begin to frantically taking pictures and video. No, I decide that I would rather take the attention for Peeta, even though I hate it. He's always sticking up for me. I never did the same.

However, as I drag my lips across his, I slowly lose myself into the sensations that are so deliciously growing inside of me. He is unresponsive, probably more surprised than anything, but I don't let that stop me.

The uproar of the media is drowned out by the need again. I pull him closer, not caring about the cameras anymore. I can feel Peeta's tense muscles beneath my fingers and I know that their questions stressed him more than I really knew. How long would it be until they made him crack?

I press my lips even harder on his. I can, no. I _will _take away that weight from his shoulders. I promise myself then and there that no matter what, its me and Peeta against the world.

Peeta's hands grip mine tightly as I slip my tongue across his lips. I can feel him trembling slightly, making my heart clench painfully. I won't let him hurt anymore.

I'm still kissing him. I don't know what I'm doing, but it feels so unbelievably good. He must be feeling the same because his hands are squeezing mine to the point where it almost hurts. His breathing is harsh against my mouth, matching mine as I relish the moment.

I know as soon as I back off, things will be so much different for us. I know that when the reporters publish the pictures and video, that there will not be privacy as Paylor promises. Instead, there will be paparazzi everywhere in 12, trying to glimpse the star-crossed lovers.

But at that moment, I just don't care. I don't care if they want to see. I don't care about Paylor and rebuilding Panem. I don't care that Haymitch will probably mock me, never letting me live this down. I don't care that Peeta may or may not feel the same way about me as I feel right now.

All I care about it protecting him.

So when I pull away breathlessly, and when the reporters surge forward once again, holding out microphones and begging for my response, I hold Peeta's gaze, clouded with lust and maybe something else, then quickly turn away, grab the nearest microphone, and say as confidently as I can, "We will no longer be taking questions. Thank you for your attendance."

Then I stand, dragging Peeta with me. His hand is still digging into mine, as if he's holding onto it for dear life, but I ignore the pain. All I can feel is the bond between us, deeper than any kind of physical contact we have.

We turn and leave without glancing back.


	27. Chapter 26: Ice

Chapter 26

Its been a week and a half since Paylor had us interview in District 12. The party had been a drag- people were clamoring over the Mockingjay and Peeta, which both angered me and had me possessively dragging Peeta around all night as women threw themselves at him wantonly.

Instead of claiming him with our physical display of affection, it had only spurred on the madness of Peeta's female fan club.

Peeta and I had danced that night, but we didn't say much, simply because the cameras were trained on us the whole time and we didn't want to say anything that could be overheard and misread.

However, when Gale came up behind us during a particularly slow dance, asking for a turn, Peeta had only given him a tight-lipped smile and handed me over gracefully, not missing a single beat.

Was Peeta even angry at Gale? I wonder what the relationship between the two of them could possibly be now that Gale has lost his memory. Gale recalls Peeta being hijacked and recovered back in District 13, but hardly much else. Its almost as if he had been wiped from both of our lives.

_But wasn't that what you wanted?_

I push the horrifying thought away. Of course I didn't want Gale to forget me. We had spent years together, surviving, beating the odds. Even if he had made mistakes in the past, I can't forget that he was the one that helped me survive until Prim was reaped.

I still hold a bit of frustration over the fact that Gale had acted the way he had in District 12. Affection. Kisses. Protesting about how right we were for each other. Then District 13. Staying close. Prying his way through the cracks in my life when Peeta was taken. Kissing me.

I'm angry again. I can feel it as I stomp through the woods. I'm headed to the lake, eager to finally get away from everything now that the buzz has died down over what had happened at the interview.

The interview. I'm not quite sure what took over me at that moment. But I do know now that I'm keeping to my promise to myself. I've been making an effort to keep Peeta company as much as possible, especially since he has just received a new prosthetic limb from the Capitol, courtesy of Paylor. He spent the whole day trying to walk on it, adjusting to the new contraption, and I helped him walk around his house, maneuvering around his furniture.

Peeta and I have been sleeping together as well. Every night, we would fall into our routine. He would go brush his teeth as I put Buttercup outside to wander the backyard. After I let Buttercup back in, I would head upstairs to find him changed into his night clothes and sitting on the edge of the bed, either sketching or lost in thought. I would quickly utilize the bathroom, washing my face and brushing my teeth, before joining him. By this time, he would be already under the sheets and would lift the covers for me to slide in next to him, where I would instinctively lean back against his body. His arms would circle me as I lay my head on his chest and we would fall asleep in only a few moments.

Today, when I woke up, I noticed that Peeta hadn't woken up earlier than I do as he normally does. I spent a good few moments relaxing against his warm body. No nightmares. Still, Peeta blinks his eyes open and inhales deeply before exhaling and looking down at me. His hair is tousled from sleep as I raise an eyebrow expectantly.

But instead of the usual good morning, Peeta says, "You're beautiful when you wake up." I find myself flushing red hot as he pulls his arm away from my shoulders and sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. I can't seem to pull up any sort of response.

Peeta seems to understand this. He doesn't make a fuss when I stammer out that he can use the shower first and he balances himself unsteadily on his new prosthetic before disappearing into the bathroom, leaving me to myself. Well, myself and my jumbled thoughts.

It has been a while since the interview, yet I'm still not sure if my sudden affection for Peeta was drawn from my feelings for him or just another need to survive. And I hate myself for it. How can I distinguish if what I feel are emotions or just another instinct? Are the two identical?

When I ask myself what I would do without Peeta, the answer is always the same. I cannot live without him. Survival. Or love?

I had gone downstairs to grab two cheese buns from the bread box for breakfast as I pondered this. Yes, I had kissed Peeta. Yes, it had felt extraordinarily good. Yes, I had done it to take the brunt of the media. Yes, I had done it to protect Peeta.

_Dammit. _

No matter how many times I run it through my head, the reasons even out.

However, that didn't change the fact that all the blood rushed to my face when I opened the bedroom door and found Peeta changing into his clothes for the day.

Peeta had brought over some clothes so he could change in the morning and start his day faster than running back and forth from his house to mine. I had agreed, simply because I didn't want him to have to walk to and from our houses in his night clothes in the chilly winter air.

He's pulling on some soft cotton sweatpants, the dark color a sharp contrast to his pale skin. His hair is still damp and drops of water spray from his golden locks as he shakes the hair from his eyes. His towel is dropped ungraciously on the floor as he struggles to get his pants on over his false leg and he is concentrating on the task at hand while trying to maintain his balance.

I had quickly run over to him, hoping he wouldn't fall and hurt himself or break his prosthetic, and placed one hand on his back and one on his shoulder to steady him. But when my hands touched his skin, I could feel something spark between us. He had turned to look at me, but I recoiled, pulling my hands back in surprise and snatching up the cheese bun as an excuse. "Here's your breakfast," I had muttered quickly, avoiding glancing at his sculpted chest and arms. He chuckled quietly. "Thanks, Katniss." I left the room quickly, trying to fight the urge to get back in there and... and...

I'm not quite sure what I would've done. I've never been experienced with these types of emotions before. Not even with Gale. I don't know how to react with what I feel for Peeta.

So I do what I do best and ignore them to the best of my ability.

Peeta decided to go off into town that day. "We can't hide ourselves away forever," he had explained as he pulled on a thin jacket. I shrug in response. He invites me along, but I shake my head. "I'm going out," I explain shortly. He nods, pulling on the coat he had chosen to wear. I shake my head before going to the closet and pulling out a thicker one.

"The Capitol predicts snowfall tonight," I explain as I take the coat he had chosen and throw it onto the couch. "Its going to be very cold." His smile warms me as I hold it up for him to slip into, but I avoid his gaze as much as possible. I had seen my mother do this to my father when I was little. Did this mean I was falling in love with Peeta?  
The feel of his arms embracing me is gentle as he says, "Thanks, Katniss. I'll be fine." He then walks out the door, stopping at the edge of the yard to turn around and wave before trotting off down the street.

I'm staring off after him, oblivious not only to the bitter cold as it touches my skin but also to my rebellious right hand, which raised in response to Peeta's wave. But as soon as I caught myself looking at Peeta with the expression of one of those adoring female reporters, I immediately decided to set foot into the woods.

As I approach the clear water of the lake, I notice the surface is frozen. Glossy and smooth. I test the ice carefully, pressing the heel of my boot to it before placing my body weight on it. However, the ice breaks as soon as I force my leg down a little harder.

Is this what me and Peeta are like? Fragile? Testing how far we can go until we break? I shake my head, sitting on the grass near the water's edge. No. I don't want us to break because then we will be without each other. And when water refreezes, it takes time. Its weaker than the rest. Its a sobering thought, damaging my relationship with Peeta so much that it is no longer as strong as we could make it.

The ice glistens back to me the next few hours I spend there, lost in thought about Peeta.


	28. Chapter 27: Help

Chapter 27

I'm walking back from the lake towards the meadow, trying to warm my nose from the cold. My hands are balled up in my jacket sleeves as I press the warm material to my face, breathing deeply. The warm air from my breath only temporarily warms my skin.

I'm thinking too hard. I should be happy that life has gone back to being fairly peaceful. Peeta and I have fallen into routine. Paylor hasn't sent any more Capitol agents to fetch us, aside from positioning none other than Gale Hawthorne in a house at the edge of Victor's Village. She said that it was for protection purposes, but I had no say in whether or not Gale stayed. The nation was supposedly recovering quickly now that Peeta and I had 'cooperated', which did not go unnoticed by Paylor. However, she kept her promise and kept as much of the press away from us as she could.

My boots skid on the hill from frozen dew stuck to the shrubbery as I make my way up the slope. I quickly dig my feet in instinctively and push on til I reach the top.

But I stop quickly when I see who is there.

"Haymitch? Gale?"

Haymitch is sitting on the large flat gray stone that Gale used to meet me at when we would go hunting together. Gale is standing awkwardly next to him as Haymitch pulls a large swig of alcohol before turning to me.

"Hi, sweetheart."

At first I'm confused. Haymitch has never ventured out of his house during the day ever since... well, ever since he figured alcohol would do the trick. But here he is, still drinking alcohol, but outside, and with Gale nonetheless.

Then I'm angry. Oh, so angry. Not just at Haymitch, but at Gale.

"Why are you here?" I demand, not caring which of them answered first. I can feel my muscles stiffening in rage and my lips curling. What gave them the right to intrude on such a private place?

Gale shifts uncomfortably, looking sheepish. "He was outside my house, stumbling around. I didn't want him to pass out on the street, so I tried to get him to his house, but he wouldn't let me. I just followed him until he came here and sat down," he blurts out, almost panicky.

I glare at Haymitch then, demanding an explanation. There's no way Haymitch was a stumbling fool. He has been around liquor long enough that it was pulsing through his veins. "Well?"  
Haymitch laughs. Obnoxiously. "Sweetheart, don't tell me that you forgot that today is Sunday."

I scowl. "That's none of your business," I growl at him. "I don't hunt on Sundays anymore. That was the past."

Gale brightens suddenly. "You hunt too?" I stare blankly at him, surprised at his reaction. "I hunt every Sunday," he begins to explain, but I cut him off briskly. "I know."

I shoot a deadly look at Haymitch, who is watching carefully with a face half expressing glee and seriousness. "Gale, can you give me and Haymitch a moment?"

Gale moves further down the hill, a polite distance away so that none of our words would float into earshot. As soon as he's down the slope, I turn on Haymitch.

"Why did you bring him here? Have you forgotten that I don't want anything to do with him anymore? Not when I've finally started to get my life together?"

Haymitch stares back evenly. "So you're going to leave that part of your life in pieces? Leave _him _in pieces? Sweetheart, he may not remember, but you owe it to yourself to bring him back into your life."

"He doesn't remember me," I snarl, enunciating each word with malice. "I owe him nothing. I don't want him here-"

"That's a damn lie and I can see right through it."

He's partially right. I miss Gale. And now that he's forgotten what he's done and that he was even in love with me at one point, its hard to hold that against him.

"I can't forget what he's done," I grit out. Its almost as if I'm losing Prim again. Or somehow dishonoring her by allowing Gale back into my life.

Haymitch grimaces. "Sweetheart, you're hurting yourself trying to keep her alive. She's gone."

Those aren't the words I want to hear. I turn around and flee, racing down the slope past Gale, who calls out after me. I ignore him and dart through the trees. I can feel the tears threatening to escape through my hard exterior.

Its not until I feel something grab my arm that I turn around. Except I only turn around to lash out rashly at whatever is holding me back.

"Ow! Dammit!" Gale recoils as bright red streaks bloom from his cheek where my nails raked across his skin.

I only turn away, ready to run again, but he stops me, despite my attempts to escape. "Hey! Stop! Ow! Katniss!"

I stop when he says my name because it feels almost as if another knife has cut into my past. No more Catnip. Just Katniss.

I burst, sinking to my knees and just kneeling on the forest floor with my arms curled in at my chest. Too much. Too much is gone. And now its coming back to haunt me in real life.

Gale doesn't know what to do. That much is apparent when he shifts from one foot to the other while I cry, letting lose the tears that have been brought forth due to confusion. In fact, he mutters something about needing to get Haymitch before I hurt myself.

"You don't even know!" I shout at him angrily. And he really doesn't. Part of me wishes he did. I don't know why. He would apologize. I wouldn't forgive him. He'd leave. Maybe that's why I wish he remembered.

But instead, he can't. He doesn't, and I can't do anything about it.

Except maybe help him remember. Like what I did for Peeta.

But did I really want to do that? Is Haymitch right when he tells me how I only hurt myself by pushing Gale away? Should I accept Prim's death? Its been months.

I can't seem to say yes to any of those questions.

"I want Peeta," I manage in between sobs. And I truly do at that moment. I feel as if a stranger has found me on the ground, helpless. I don't want Gale here.

Its only when I feel strong muscular arms snake under me that I realize exactly how much I want Peeta here. No. How much I _need _Peeta here.

Its true. Perhaps I want to help Gale. Some little part of me must. He'd been my confidant and best friend for years. But what would that mean for me? For Prim?

For Peeta?

But my grief immobilizes me and I let Gale carry me back to where Haymitch is waiting on that damned rock. I have completely shut down at this point.

Its only when I'm back in my own house and left alone that I shut myself into my closet and curl up, wishing I could somehow fix everything.


	29. Chapter 28: New

Chapter 28

Its around mid afternoon when I decide to come out. Although my heart still feels a bit heavy from this morning's forest confrontation, I can't say that I blame Haymitch or Gale. But at the same time, everything has hit me once again.

The only thing that muffled the force of it all was the fact that Peeta is not at District 13 this time. When he was at the Capitol, I had become so depressed and lost that it took the efforts of both Haymitch and Sae just to keep me alive.

But now that Peeta is here, I wonder what that means for him. I wasn't lying when I said he was my lifeline. But at the same time, I'm scared out of my mind to love him.

I make my way over to Peeta's house, hoping that he didn't hear from Haymitch about my mini-episode.

Peeta's door is unlocked, so I slip inside his house quietly. I can hear him upstairs, humming some tuneless song. He must have returned from town earlier.

I walk up the stairs to find him in his room, painting. His concentration is impressive. He barely notices me when I stand in the doorway and watch as his hands skim the paintbrush over the canvas, creating bright swirls of color that seem almost too lifelike to be real.

"Peeta."

He turns when I say his name, and his eyes light up. "Hi. I didn't hear you," he says before putting his paints down on the table next to him and standing to greet me. But I don't feel at ease at the moment, especially after this morning, and Peeta picks up on it. "What's wrong?"

"Should I forgive Gale?" I blurt out, unable to contain it. His eyes widen in surprise as he stops approaching me. _Oh damn._

"Did something happen?"

"No," I say quickly. "But... I don't know..." The words die in my mouth. I'm too scared to say it.

_Should I let go of Prim? _

Peeta moves back to sit on his bed, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. "Katniss, Gale doesn't remember."

"I know that," I insist. "But that doesn't bring her back." My voice cracks at the end and the grief I had tried so hard to quell before coming over here threatens to spill over.

Peeta stands and pulls me over to the bed, where he sits me down carefully. He crouches before me, holding both of my hands in his. "Look, I know how you feel about Prim. But nothing changes the fact that she can't be brought back. None of them can be brought back."

His words bring forth another bout of tears, but he simply reaches up with one hand and wipes them away gently with the sleeve of his shirt. I realize that I'm not the only one who lost someone dear to them. Peeta's family is gone. Annie lost Finnick. Countless others lost someone as well.

"But we have to carry on, Katniss. You don't know how long I've been wanting to help you feel alive again. That part of you may have died with Prim, but you have so much potential in you to love again. To enjoy life. To honor them."

Sobs wrack my shoulders as I bend over, covering my face in my hands. However, Peeta's hands pull mine away gently as he continues quietly, "Prim would have wanted you to be happy."

"I can't be happy without her," I snivel, but Peeta shakes his head.

"You can." He looks earnestly in my eyes. "Let me help you," he begs quietly before he pulls me down into his arms and holds onto me tightly as I let it all go.

I have to be crying for hours. Maybe more. But Peeta refuses to leave my side as he kisses the top of my head and rubs his hands along my back. His loyalty and devotion towards me puts me to shame. Why can't I be the one to help him in some way?

After the tears have long subsided and the hiccups have disappeared, Peeta helps me clean up and takes me downstairs. Moonlight streams in from the windows, casting shadows around the room as he moves around the living room to turn on the lights. How could it be evening? I couldn't have stayed here that long.

But I had indeed.

I sink down into a chair as Peeta goes into the kitchen, losing myself as I stare out the window. The depression is so like when Peeta was gone. Even though he's here. Mostly because it is Peeta who is asking me to let Prim go.

But can I really do it? Prim was my life. I was given the task to feed her. To guide her.

To protect her.

And I failed.

How can I move on from that? Failing my little sister. If I had known how high the price was to pay, I never would have let her become a field medic during the war. It was her dream, and she died with it. I close my eyes tightly. What had I done wrong? She loved healing and helping people. But she died doing just that.

And look at me- one of the most reserved people you could ever meet, a survivor, a killer, a murderer.

And I'm still alive.

I'm cursing myself when a warm hand places itself on my calf. I feel something warm being shoved into my hands. "Come on," Peeta says, helping me up from the couch. He's carrying a heavy blanket and another steaming bowl of something. I look down at my hands to see that it is some kind of broth.

I don't ask where. I'm too tired. But when Peeta takes me out into the cold on his porch and sits us down on the doorsteps, I realize that he intends for us to eat outside. He places the blanket around our shoulders and holds me close, making sure that we're warm enough to remain outside.

We eat quietly in the silence, staring out at the empty Victor's Village road and the night sky. Stars shine brightly tonight, for there are no clouds to mute their glow. It is beautiful. And peaceful.

When I finish the soup that Peeta had given me, he wordlessly hands me a cheese bun that he had brought out as well. We sit out there, gazing at the stars and losing ourselves in the calm of the night.

Suddenly, I'm grateful. Just grateful for Peeta being here beside me. For him being okay. For him helping me get through this. He is strong, but so very gentle as well. He is a fighter, but a lover as well. He is broken like me, yet a survivor at heart. We both are.

The idea that Peeta _still _wants to help me hits me then. And with it, brings a flood of gratitude and affection for him.

I reach out with my hand and wrap it around his arm, pulling myself into his shoulder. He turns to meet my gaze. His eyes hold such tenderness in them that I suddenly just want to hold him close to me. As close as possible and to never let go.

"We'll get through this," he says quietly, leaning down towards me to rest his forehead against mine. "We'll start new. All over again. A clean slate."

I nod, just as the snowflakes begin to fall. They cover the ground slowly as we remain like that, our heads bent together as we breathe each other in.

By the time we head inside to go to sleep, the ground is covered in snow.

Clean. White. Pure.

New.


	30. Chapter 29: Sides

Chapter 29

Another week passes quietly. Peeta and I have been spending quite a bit of time together. I even decided to take him to the meadow one day.

Although my intentions weren't quite so clear on why I took him to that particular spot, I did know one thing. I want to move on. And Peeta makes me want to.

So I brought him to the spot Gale and I used to meet at. Perhaps I wanted to start new memories. I took him to the edge of the hill, which overlooked the miles and miles of forest that stretched to beyond. "This is our spot," I told him, pointing directly to the oak tree that we were sitting under. It is surrounded by bright yellow dandelions and tall grasses that go up to the middle of my calves. It is perfect. Far enough from the rock Gale and I met at to give us the privacy that I craved.

I was sitting on the couch at my house when I suddenly get an idea on how to help Peeta in my own way. He's sitting next to me, leaning back against the cushions as he watches the television. We hardly use the Capitol product, but Peeta enjoys watching the news, so we've made a habit of sitting together after breakfast to watch it.

"Peeta, why don't you reopen the bakery?"  
He sighs, turning the volume down on the television. "I've thought about it, Katniss," he admits, "but I don't think I can. Its just... Its too much."

But I won't let him slip away. Not with that kind of excuse.

I remember walking to the station with Haymitch when Peeta first arrived in 13 months ago. "Peeta, you easily could. There's an empty plot of land in town. Untouched. It has to be yours."

Peeta looks at me sorrowfully. "Well, yeah. Its where my family's bakery used to be."

I try not to flinch when he says the words past tense. "You can rebuild it. Bake. You love doing it. And you can meet everyone in town by doing it. You love people."

"Baking right on top of my family's ashes," he mutters, lifting the remote to turn the volume back up, but I reach out and take it from his hand.

"Peeta, please. Consider it? I think it could really help you."

He looks at me carefully then. My words sink in. We really are trying to help each other. I meet his gaze steadily.

"I'll think about it," he promises slowly before reaching over and reclaiming the remote. "But its going to be a lot of hard work."

"I know. But I'll... I'll help you." He looks startled at my volunteering. "I know I'm not exactly the friendliest person in the world, but I want you to succeed. I-"

"Katniss! Look!" He is pointing to the television screen in excitement, his eyes blazing a brilliant blue. Its all I can do to tear my eyes away from his as I force my gaze to the screen.

The volume is still low as Peeta struggles to turn it up, but I catch the words on the screen just before a commercial comes on.

_Capitol prisoners found and released!_

I shrug. Why should that bother me? Venia, Flavius, and Octavia are safe. Effie is also safe. Not the same, but still safe. Who am I to care for the Capitol citizens that put me in the Games in the first place?

"Damn, we missed it." Peeta tosses the remote down next to him as I stand next to him.

"Its fine. Its not important," I insist as I pull him to his feet.

He nods before pulling away to stand a respectable distance away from me. The distance of a friend. Somehow, that upsets me, but I push it away. "So what are you going to do today?"

I shrug. "Clean the house. Laundry. Nothing exciting."  
He looks away before suggesting quietly, "Why don't you go see Gale?"

My face must deceive my shock because he adds, "I think Haymitch is right."

"So you're siding with Haymitch now?" I regret that the words come out a little more harshly than I intend, but he doesn't seem to mind. In fact, it is almost as if he expected it.

"No. I'll always be on your side," he says, his eyes locking on mine, sending a jolt of energy through me. "But you said we'd help each other. I think this will help."

"How will hanging around the person who killed my sister help me?"

"He's still your friend, Katniss, whether he remembers it or not. It wasn't him who dropped the bombs. And I think you could really benefit by trying to connect with him again." His voice is a little strained at the end and he clears his throat.

Realization hits me. He wants me to go. He wants me to go to Gale. To connect? What does that even mean?

I'm confused then. Does Peeta not want me after all? I look at the carpet beneath my toes, a little hurt. I didn't expect Peeta to love me. Not at all. But to push me away? After we agreed that we were friends? After we agreed to help each other?  
"Damn you." He looks absolutely startled at my words, but I continue, a little angrily. "Do you really just expect me to walk out right when we're back where we should be?"

Peeta's mouth drops open. "What? Katniss, I-"

"Save it for later, Peeta, when you realize whats right in front of your nose," I hiss before storming from the room, stopping only to grab a thick winter coat from the closet.

I can hear Peeta calling after me as I run out of Victor's Village, but I don't stop to look back. The hurt comes back. Throbbing in my chest. Why did Peeta's words affect me like that? I grit my teeth, but carry on, not knowing really where my feet are taking me.

Its when I'm halfway through town that I decide to head to the Justice Building. Even if Peeta's suggestion hurt me, I still owe it to him to help him heal too. I resolve to inquire about the empty property space for the bakery as I head towards the center of District 12.

The snow crunches under my feet as I push through town. The snow had stopped earlier this morning, leaving the District covered in a thick white blanket of snow, and now everyone was out trying to shovel the snow into large piles at the edges of the roads.

Children run around, building snowmen and tossing snowballs at each other. They laugh joyously as they slide down small drifts on pieces of cardboard, each clamoring to get a turn.

I shake my head. Christmas was coming soon. I would have to get presents for everyone, which was really not a problem since Paylor still ensured that the few surviving Victors still received large payments of money and large shipments of supplies.

I list off the people I would have to get gifts for. Peeta, of course. Haymitch. The dumb orange furball Buttercup. Sae. Her granddaughter too. Annie and little Finn. Johanna. Gale? I probably should, I concede as I see the Justice Building. Its not too much trouble to get him a gift anyways. He had played the part of my cousin without complaint so I guess I owe him that much.

I'm walking up the steps of the Justice Building, contemplating on what gifts to buy for who when I run smack into someone, almost knocking us both off the stairs.

"Sorry," I immediately mumble, regaining my balance, "I wasn't looking-"

I stop when I see who it is. My eyes take in the thin form of a body who has suffered stress and malnourishment, uncommon now that everyone in the District receives enough food from the Capitol. He looks disheveled, tired. However its the

brilliant green eyes that get to me, the specks of gold inside of them highlighted by the gold eyeliner that traces the edge of his eyelids.

Its Cinna.

"I'm still betting on you, girl on fire."

But something is wrong. Terribly wrong. And I notice it immediately when I step back and look him up and down.

Cinna no longer has his arms.

Horror grips me, but it only lasts for a second before I black out.


	31. Chapter 30: Prisoner

Chapter 30

"What do you mean, you didn't do anything?"

"Does it _look _like I can do anything? In case you haven't noticed, sir, I-"

"Alright, you two, cut it out! She's coming to!" This voice is harsh, gruff.

I groan as I blink my eyes open, bright lights immediately flooding my vision. I flinch away from the light, closing my eyes tightly.

"Can she hear us?" The voice is familiar, but my head is throbbing from the white light.

"Shut up," the other voice growls as I feel a hand press to my forehead. I turn away from it, croaking, "The light."

Immediately, the light goes off and blissfully welcomed darkness envelopes me. I open my eyes slowly, blinking repeatedly to clear my vision.

"Welcome back, sweetheart." Haymitch holds out his small flask of liquor, but its batted away by another hand.

"Really? Alcohol?"  
"It clears the mind," Haymitch grumbles back defensively, but he tucks the silver container away in his coat pocket obediently.

"Katniss, can you hear us?"

I push myself to my elbows from my reclining position so I could bring a hand up to my forehead. "What happened?"

An unfamiliar voice answers me. "You fainted. On the steps. Then you hit an ice patch and fell. But you're lucky you landed in the snowdrift at the base of the steps."

I look up to see a Capitol officer, his face stern as he glares across at Cinna, who is standing a few feet away. I try to glare at the officer, but my voice sounds like its been through the wringer. "Get away from him. I know him."

Cinna approaches slowly, cautious in case the Capitol guard decided to pull anything. But as soon as he's close enough, I launch myself at him. He's alive. One of those deaths that have constantly haunted my dreams. One of the people I trusted and was taken from me. One of those who suffered because of me.

I hug him tightly, my shoulders shaking as I cling to him. I can feel the tears pouring down my face, but they're tears of joy. Tears of relief.

That's one less death on my conscience.

Cinna buries his head into my hair and whispers quietly, "I'll always be betting on you, Katniss." I only hug him tighter. I don't know what to say. And I don't really want to either, for fear that this is all a hallucination and that it will all disappear if I say something.

I pull away slightly to look at him, to really look at him. He's gaunt. Underfed, malnourished. Thin. Too thin. His bones stick out prominently on his cheeks and the only normalcy on his face is the gold eyeliner. "Cinna-"

He shakes his head, stopping me. "Let's go sit down somewhere," he says quietly, leading me out of the room. We were in the Justice Building, where they probably dragged me in after I collapsed.

He leads me to a bench located near the Justice Building's entrance, indicating with a dip of his head that I should sit.

"I can't believe you're here," I confess.

His eyes are warm despite his poor condition. "I can hardly believe it either."

"What happened? How did you... the guards..." I trail off, remembering how they entered the Launch Room only moments before I was to be released into the Quarter Quell Arena and beat him with metal studded gloves until he was bleeding and unconscious. I swallow hard. "I'm so sorry, Cinna-"

"Its okay," he says firmly. I'm shaking my head when he responds. "I know what I did. I was asking for it. It should be me who should be asking your forgiveness."

"Me? Why?"

"I transformed you into the Mockingjay. Whether or not you're aware of it, I turned you into the rebels' figurehead." He bows his head before glancing up and saying, "I'm so sorry, Katniss. I heard about Prim, your sister."

The tears. This time I squish them down for Cinna's sake. "What happened to you?"

Cinna's mouth forms a tight smile as he sits near me. "The Capitol knew what I was up to as soon as you put on that wedding dress. When the dress transformed you into the Mockingjay, it spread the symbol of rebellion across the nation, which was exactly what the rebels needed- support. They opted to punish me, to try and obtain information concerning the rebels since I was obviously in on the plot."

I don't know whether to be hurt, angry, or to pity him. On one hand, he had basically forced me into the position of Mockingjay, which inevitably led to the deaths of Prim, Finnick, Boggs, and countless others I will never forget. Yet I can see why he had done it. The Capitol was wrong- too power hungry. Too ready to prosecute innocents.

I realize with a pang that if I had been as gifted as Cinna, I probably would have done the same.

"They came after I finished loading you into the Launch tube. Probably to unnerve you and to capture me. They wanted you dead too, you know." I nod, knowing all too well what the feeling was like. "They beat me until I blacked out, then dragged me out. When I awoke, I was in a cell. Snow was sitting outside of it, waiting for me to come to."

I shiver, imagining myself as Cinna. Waking up, every part of me body aching and bleeding. Maybe even a few broken bones. But excruciating pain radiating from where each of those blows had rained down.

Then, having to see Snow's eerily pale skin and thin, beady snake-like eyes staring back at you from the shadows? To smell the cloying scent of roses, so utterly artificial that it reeks too strongly, more than any natural rose? To smell the blood on his breath, even if you're sitting as far as you can from him?

Its almost too much to bear.

"He questioned me, but I refused to answer. He left me alone for a few days, with hardly anything to eat. I was sure that they were going to starve me to death. So instead I took the blanket in my cell and the rags from the floor and began to tie them together to try and make a thicker garment for warmth. They caught me and Snow ordered that they torture me for information."

He stops, taking a deep shaky breath. I place my hands on his shoulders, rubbing my fingers over the tense muscles. He sighs, mustering up his courage, I think.

"They hurt me. Cut me. Took pieces from me every day. I bled, but I never broke. Not once. I would never let them in on the plan that could free Panem." He pauses, before continuing on, his voice deepening in what could be rage, sorrow. Perhaps even anguish.

"Then one day, when they saw me working on my blanket again, they dragged me out and took me into this terrible room. There was blood everywhere. None of it was mine. Fresh. Old. The walls, the floor." He's shaking now, and I hold on tightly to let him know I'm there. "They placed me on a table, locking me down with thick metal cuffs. I didn't fight. I learned a long time ago that fighting only made it worse. But I can't imagine anything worse than what they did next."

His trembling cannot be stilled as he whispers quietly now, his voice shaking. "They took my arms. They said that way I wouldn't channel my emotions into my work anymore. That I wouldn't be able to contribute to the rebels' plan. That I couldn't hurt anyone, not even myself."

I feel sick. My breakfast from this morning threatens to make a reappearance, but I struggle to keep it together for Cinna's sake.

"The pain was terrible. I wanted to die. To kill myself somehow. But without arms, its almost impossible. They kept me alive by tying bandages around my shoulders to staunch the blood flow. It didn't do much, but it kept me alive. That's all they wanted anyways."

"Why didn't they let you keep your arms? If I knew you were alive during those interviews, I never would've let that happen to you," I plead. But he shakes his head.

"This was far before your interviews in 12. You had just been evacuated from the Arena. As far as I knew, my job was done. You were safe. You had the clothes I designed specifically for your appearances in 13 and on television. You had the armor to protect you."

Its those words that make the guilt rise up immediately. Cinna had already doomed himself willingly for the sake of Panem. For my sake. I owe him more than I can even express.

"I was left down there when the war started. There wasn't much to hear about down there- there were few prisoners and most were too traumatized to speak. I could catch the occasional bit from the Peacekeepers when they were called to duty, but not much. I only knew that the rebels pushed forward a little day by day and that you were safe."

I hug him tightly as he finishes his story. "When the war ended, no Peacekeepers came to feed us. We all assumed they were dead and accepted the fact that we were doomed down there to starve to death. But the new Capitol had sent out search teams to look for any survivors. Luckily, they discovered a hidden passageway down to the cells and freed us just in time. One unlucky Capitol man had already died, but the rest of us were clinging to life."

Tears are streaming down my face now as I hold the broken man, who is also crying now. We sit there, me holding onto him as tightly as possible, trying to reassure him that everything will be okay.

I pull away after a few moments to sniffle and look him in the eyes. He looks defeated. Destroyed. The broken spirit of a man who lived for creation.

"Stop crying, Cinna," I plead quietly, "Your eyeliner is going to run."


	32. AN: My Mistake!

_HI!_

Yes, this is the first author's note in this fanfic, mostly because I don't like begging for reviews and writing anything but the actual story.

However, its been pulled to my attention about a mistake in the last chapter. Here was the mistake, brought to my attention by a lovely reviewer:

"Quick question, you said "He stops, taking a deep shaky breath. I take one of  
his hands in both of mine, squeezing it. He squeezes back, mustering up his  
courage, I think."  
But I thought his hands are gone? Did I miss something? :/"

I'M SO SORRY. Want to know why? Because I was changing it over and over because I didn't want Cinna to originally be missing his arms (however, I did decide to make him arm-less because it only fit better in the story). So yes, I had rewritten this chapter multiple times, changed it up, and now POOF.

catastrophy.

This chapter shall be edited shortly! But thank you so much for bringing this to my attention. As a consolation for you guys' patience, here was what I had originally planned for Cinna, who would have kept his arms:

"Then one day, when they saw me working on my blanket again, they dragged me out and took me into this terrible room. There was blood everywhere. None of it was mine. Fresh. Old. The walls, the floor." He's shaking now, and I hold on tightly to let him know I'm there. "They placed me on a table, locking me down with thick metal cuffs. I didn't fight. I learned a long time ago that fighting only made it worse. But I can't imagine anything worse than what they did next."

His trembling hands cannot be stilled as he whispers quietly now, his voice shaking.

"One by one, they brought them in. My mother. My father. Relatives. Distant ones even. But it didn't make it any better. No, the more they brought in, the more I thrashed. The more I cracked." He shakes his head, as if trying to expel the memories by that simple movement.

"They killed them all. One by one. They took long, cruel knives and drove them anywhere they could reach. Anywhere they thought would cause the most pain. It took minutes, maybe hours, for them to die. But they would all be screaming on the floor, calling out to me."

I want to cover my ears. The images he's conjuring right before my eyes are horrifying. The experience must have been exponentially worse.

"Their blood covered the walls. If I thought the room was coated before, I was wrong. They left me in there with them. The dead. The dying. I was chained, unable to help to my abilities. They all died in front of me while I was fastened to that table." He shudders. "Its only when my mother, the last one, stopped moving when they came back in and pulled me out."

He looks at me then, with so much fear in his eyes I am sure he must see them every night as I see Prim. "I waded through their blood, Katniss. There was so much."

ANYWAYS, you guys can see why I took that one out (ITS WAY TOO GRUESOME). Sorry for the mistake, I will make my amends!

-V


	33. Chapter 31: Permits

Chapter 31

It takes a while, but soon, Cinna regains his usual, calm demeanor. "So, how have _you_ been, Katniss? I've heard a lot of different stories, but I only want to hear it from you."

I shy away, looking down at the cold concrete floor beneath my feet. Shame rushes through me as I consider what to tell Cinna. "I... It was really hard," I say vaguely, my words fading as I trail off.

Cinna's expression doesn't reveal anything as he stares at me, willing me to continue on. His eyes are piercing into me. I can't lie to him. Not when I'd practically trusted him with my life during the Games.

"When she... Prim..." Its hard to say because when I talk about her, all I can think about it Peeta asking me to move on. I don't want to forget her. Not that I ever could. The guilt is sharper than any blade in the Games, especially when I think about how I'm still alive. When I look at Buttercup, who abhors me, and realize that she's the one he really wants to see.

Cinna hasn't moved his gaze from my face. I push on.

"I can't forget," I say finally, stammering slightly. Its my turn to tell him my story. To sit through the pain while he comforts me. "I miss her every day. And now, I don't know what I can do without her."

I hear his clothes rustle as he shifts next to me. "What about everything else?"

"I haven't been eating well until a month ago," I admit. "Sae and Haymitch had to keep me alive. But when Peeta came back-" I stop. I'm not quite sure what had come over me when Peeta came back. Or why my will to live was reincarnated.

As I'm puzzling over this for a few moments, Cinna adds quietly, "What about Peeta?"

"He- we had a fight," I say. I remember how I left Peeta this morning, storming out without giving him a chance to explain or talk me out of my anger.

Suddenly, I'm worried. I left him. It sinks in like a dagger, cutting deep into me.

I left him.

Cinna must realize that there's panic budding within me because he tells me, "Katniss, I know you're struggling right now. That's why I'm here in 12." He pauses to watch me as I struggle to control my emotions. "I'm sorry for what I've put you through, Katniss. I know you thought lost everything when she died. But you need to see what's truly in front of you."

This startles me beyond belief. It is almost the exact same words that I had snarled out to Peeta only moments before I walked out.

There's only one thought that crosses my mind as I stare at him in astonishment.

_What have I done?_

I've basically just insinuated to Peeta that I'm in love with him. Before then insinuating again that I didn't want to see him again until he realized that.

"So, what are you doing running to the Justice Building of all places? I thought you wanted nothing to do with the government?"

This reminds me of my plan. "I was going to inquire about the empty plot of land where Peeta's family's bakery used to be," I say.

Cinna looks surprised. "He's recovered?"

I nod, feeling a bit of relief. "For the most part. He went to the Capitol for treatment after the war was over. They neutralized most of the venom, so he shouldn't be having episodes."  
"That's good." Cinna stands then, straightening up before adding, "then let's get those permits then."

It takes about an hour, but Cinna stays by my side as we wait for the Capitol attendant to look up and search for the files regarding the bakery property. He even convinces the attendant to give us the permits, even though Peeta is technically supposed to be present for such a transaction.

"She's the Mockingjay," he argues reasonably, "What do you think she'll really do with it? Blow up the property? She tried to _save_ the nation, not destroy it."

The attendant hands over the papers without complaint after that.

After we take possession of the papers regarding the bakery, Cinna walks with me, talking amiably about his plans. "Paylor opened up a house in Victor's Village for me to stay in. Its near the entrance of town, so I can easily access it. She's having construction done on it as soon as possible so I can use it easily due to my situation."

I glance at him, tempering my sympathy. "How hard is it? To live like this?"

He shrugs. "Harder than most people think it is. I can't even feed myself. Paylor has assigned me some care assistants to help me." He looks down momentarily before adding with a grimace, "Its degrading. I can't eat. I can't dress. I can't even wash myself. I can't take part in the simple things of life, such as drawing, or playing music, or crafting clothing. I miss it."

I nod, but I can't even begin to imagine how hard it is for him. To live without your sister is hard enough.

But to live without your arms.

It must be terrifying.

"I'm sorry you had to go through all that," I mumble, even though its only a small consolation to the pain he had to endure.

Cinna shrugs. "I volunteered myself. To suffer. I knew what I was doing, Katniss. You were the only pure innocent we dragged into this."

We walk on, and he tells me about how he moved his belongings from the Capitol so he could stay here for a long period of time. I secretly hope he never leaves, but it isn't my decision. Besides, I also don't want to drag him down with me either.

Its only when we reach Victor's Village that we see Haymitch standing near a few Capitol workers, who are hurriedly trying to hustle around while he motions frantically, holding his flask in the other hand.

"Messing with the Capitol folk now, Haymitch?" I ask.

"Very funny, sweetheart. You look great for passing out cold on concrete," he sneers back, but his eyes are bright. Wild.

"Dammit, Haymitch. You haven't had too much to drink, have you?"

"Seriously, sweetheart? I live off of alcohol. No, I've decided to keep up with you and bread boy. I'm going to start keeping geese here."

I wrinkle my nose. "Suits you. Dirty animals for the more disgusting house in Panem."

"Har-har." Haymitch waves us away. "Why don't you go do something useful? I'm sure that boy missed you on your little excursion."

Immediately, I am reminded of my fight with Peeta. "Yeah, yeah. I'm on it," I grumble, not very convincingly.

Cinna nudges me with his shoulder. "Why don't we go give him the permits? Perhaps we can explain to him what the attendant told us about the land and the regulations."

I nod before we bid Haymitch goodbye, who only waves us off. He's too busy snapping at the workers as they construct the pen.

I lead Cinna to Peeta's house, trying to figure out what I'm going to say to him. Should I apologize? Should I explain my words somehow?

No, I can't do that. I hardly know what I'm feeling myself. Is it love? Or was I only angry at his lack of faith in our friendship? Our bond?

Cinna looks surprised when I don't knock on the door. I turn the doorknob quickly and motion him inside, explaining, "Peeta doesn't leave his door open. Its not like anyone in the District is keen on attacking a Victor of a previous Hunger Games. Not after they've seen what they can do on live television."

I don't add that Peeta and I have also gotten past that step quite a while ago. Letting each other into our lives. It just seemed to right. So natural.

But as soon as I shut the door behind us, I know that the lower floor is empty. There's no comforting sounds of Peeta working in the kitchen. There's no delicious scent of fresh bread welcoming us inside.

In fact, the house is eerily quiet.

Cinna glances at me cautiously as I creep further into the room, alert. "Peeta?" I call out to him quietly, half-expecting him to be walking down the stairs at that exact moment.

I'm met with silence.

Cinna follows me up the stairs as I investigate. Its strange that Peeta isn't responding. Perhaps he went out, eager to cool off after such a stinging comment on my behalf. Or maybe he went out to purchase more ingredients for baking.

But when Cinna and I reach the top of the stairs, I see a door slightly closed. His art studio. Of course, he must be painting.

I motion for Cinna to stay where he's at as I move to the door. I press my fingers against the heavy wood as the door swings open gently.

Peeta is sitting in the middle of the room at an easel.

Paint is splattered everywhere.

Red. Black. Green. Gray.

In his hand is a paintbrush, snapped in half. Gripped tightly as his fingers crush into the wood.

Peeta is having an episode.

A terrible one.


	34. Chapter 32: Episode

Chapter 32

Tense muscles. Eyes squeezed shut. Uncontrollable shaking. I can tell he's barely hanging on to sanity.

Cinna appears at the doorway but I quickly motion for him to leave. He shouldn't have to see this. To see what the Capitol has done to Peeta.

When Cinna is safely out of sight, I turn back to Peeta's hunched form. I can hear soft grunts erupting from his throat, as if he's trying to fight off the beast inside of him. Trying to hold it back from coming out and tearing everything apart.

My heart thumps in my chest at his personal torture. I don't know what to do. There is a slight possibility that Peeta can hurt me. Wrap his hands around my throat. Ignore my pleas for him to release me.

But I know that the Peeta that is kind to me, the Peeta that would never deny me of anything, the Peeta that would always stand by my side, is still there.

The difficult part is reaching in there and pulling him out of this episode.

Part of me is screaming to get away and run. He has hurt me before, whether or not it was intentional. He is much stronger than I am, especially since I have only been hunting sporadicly lately. I haven't regained the taut, lean muscle that I had before Prim was reaped into the Games. I stand no match against him, who is maybe twice my body weight and size.

But the other part is begging me to stay. Reminding me desperately that I had promised this boy to help him. Making me remember all those times that Peeta has made me smile. Had given me hope. The bread. The cave. The beach. The Quell. Those kisses we've shared. The burning intensity of whatever came between us when we were close.

I owe it to Peeta to do this.

I slide in front of him, moving the easel to the side carefully so that the ruined painting doesn't come crashing to the floor. He's gasping, sweat pouring from his brow as he takes in short rasping breaths. His eyes are squeezed so tightly that his expression can only mean he's in the highest throes of pain.

"Peeta," I whisper softly. It hurts me to see him like this. It cuts me to the core to know there's nothing else that can be done about this. "Peeta, open your eyes."

He shakes his head harshly, his hand flexing even tighter.

"Peeta, please, open your eyes. Its not real. None of it is real." I stroke my hand over his, trying to calm him with the soothing strokes. "Not real, Peeta. You're here, you're safe with me. I promise."

Peeta raises his face to the ceiling in anguish. I can hear his breathing grow harsh, as if he just came up for air after being underwater for a long time. The tremors in his hand have multiplied, spreading up his arm in violent shakes that alarm me.

This is an episode that is far worse than any I have ever seen Peeta experience.

My hunter instincts beg me to flee. I can feel my legs instinctively move so I'm ready to dart out of the room in case Peeta loses the little control he has left.

But I determinedly remember my promise. And I don't back down once I make a promise.

So I close my eyes and begin to sing.  
Its the same song my father sang to me when we would visit the lake. The song of the Hanging Tree. The one that my mother forbade us to sing. My father loved that song, however, and whenever we were alone, he would braid small necklaces made of twine and give them to me.

The eerie lyrics seem to flow from my mouth naturally. I haven't sung since the war began, so my voice is coarse. But the notes still find their way back to my throat as I sing quietly, still kneeling in front of Peeta.

Still hanging onto his hand.

Never intending to let go.

I have sung the entire song twice when the broken paintbrush halves fall to the floor with a clatter. I am just about to end the third time around when I feel Peeta's hand move up and touch my cheek.

I open my eyes, half expecting him to be ready to strangle me, but instead of black, angry eyes, I'm met with a dark, wistful blue. One that expresses all the sadness and pain in the world.

I trail off the last few notes just as Peeta falls to the floor, sobbing. I take him into my arms dutifully, knowing exactly the way he feels.

Broken.

Defeated.

Shattered.

And now its my turn to pick up the broken pieces and piece him together as he's done so many times for me.

Peeta's tears trickle down my neck, where he has buried his head, and they are absorbed by my shirt, but I don't mind at all. Instead, I use one hand to run my fingers through his hair and the other to keep him pressed closely to my body.

I see a flash of movement behind Peeta from the doorway and spot Cinna along with Haymitch. Cinna must have fetched him when he left me to deal with Peeta.

Haymitch's face is one of worry, his brows knitted tightly as he spots me and Peeta on the floor, but I shake my head and motion for them to leave. Cinna is expressionless, but I'm sure he is as confused as anyone who sees Peeta after an episode.

When its just me and Peeta, I carefully push him back so I can look at him. His skin is red and blotchy from his tears. There are darks circles under his eyes, as if he hasn't slept at all. It must be the stress, I realize. The fighting.

Peeta looks at me with such a pitiful look that I almost break down and cry myself. "I'm so tired, Katniss," he says quietly. "I'm just so... tired of fighting it."

I reach out my hand and run it along the side of his face, using my thumb to wipe away stray tears. "We're survivors," I respond, just as quietly. "We're survivors. We're fighters. I won't let them break you again, Peeta. I won't let them break us."

But Peeta's eyes darken to almost a deep navy blue. "They already have."

His words break my heart, but instead, I help him to his bedroom across the hall and lay him down on top of the mattress.

I'm hesitant when I debate whether or not to just tuck him in and leave him, but I shake away my fears.

I'm here for him. I'm not going anywhere.

I try to keep my eyes on his face as I unbutton the paint-splattered shirt and remove it from his body, tossing it to a corner of the room to be cleaned later. From the closet, I pull out a pair of flannel plaid sleep pants and a white sleep shirt.

Peeta's eyes are barely able to stay open as I work. Embarrassment washes over me as I reach up and loop my fingers over the waistband of his pants, but I steel myself. I tug the pants down his legs gently, extremely careful to avoid his undershorts. I've never been so acutely aware of someone else in my life, but I can't help it as I run my gaze along his body.

Even slumped on the mattress tiredly, he is extremely attractive. His muscles from the Games and baking aren't as large as before, but still defined, even when they aren't flexing. His large shoulders are propped up with two pillows because they're so broad. I briefly wonder why no other girl in town has jumped on the opportunity to try and get close with Peeta.

Or maybe they had.

I shake the thought away quickly when my gaze rests on his bad leg. Guilt shoots through me as I stare at the shimmering silver metal of the contraption. I hate it. I hate how it is attached to him like that.

A piece of the Capitol that will never leave Peeta.

I slap myself mentally. "You've seen more skin than this, Katniss," I mutter to myself as I try to stem the blush that is burning in my cheeks. And its true. My mother's patients used to come in all the time with some kind of injury. Some of them were completely naked.

So why am I reacting this way to Peeta? Because I can't run anywhere? Because I am the one dealing with the unclothed patient?

I have a hard time pulling the pants over Peeta's prosthetic leg. As soon as I've pulled them up to his waist, I attempt to put the sleep shirt on over his shoulders, but Peeta is so far gone in exhaustion that I am unable to lift his heavy torso to slip it over his shoulders. I opt to leave it off instead as I get off the bed to put it away.

Peeta's voice, so quiet that if I hadn't been standing still putting the shirt away I wouldn't have been able to hear it, rings out in the bedroom.

"Stay. Please."

I walk over to the bed and pull the sheets up and over his body. "You need to rest," I tell him, but he only says it again.

"Stay?"

I don't want to. I feel as if I'm intruding, somehow.

But Peeta and I have slept in each other's beds before. This is no different.

And he needs me now more than ever.

So I close the bedroom door, strip off my heavy coat, and join him.

Before I close my eyes, he inches his arm over my waist to hold me closer. His words are muffled by exhaustion, but I am so close that I can hear them clearly.

"Thank you."


	35. Chapter 33: Confide

Chapter 33

When I awake, I can tell by the light cast into the room that it is mid-afternoon. We must've slept for a few hours after Peeta's episode.

Peeta's episode.

I am not at all surprised to find that I am sleeping so close to Peeta that we are almost intertwined together. But I am mildly shocked to find that my head is resting directly on warm bare skin. Peeta's chest. Right above his heart.

"Hey." Peeta's chest rumbles as he speaks. It startles me a bit. I forget that he wakes up earlier than I do. I tilt my head back and find that he's looking down at me. The momentary panic I had over Peeta's lack of clothing disappears once I meet his gaze.

"Hey."

His jaw clenches a bit before he says quietly, "I'm sorry about earlier."

"There's nothing to be sorry for, Peeta," I say.

Peeta moves to shake his head but I lay my head back down on his chest, wanting nothing more than to convince Peeta that I do care for him. Deeply. And that nothing he does can ever turn me away.

"How bad was it?"

"Bad," I say. I know that if I said it wasn't, he would refuse that.

I can almost feel his grimace through where I lay. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"I'm not." His body shift a bit, as if he has moved to look at me.

I wonder now if Peeta understands how deeply I care for him. Or if he's just not observant when it comes to what I feel for him.

But I know that part of me doesn't know what I feel for Peeta yet. And if Peeta happens to ask me right now, I probably wouldn't know that answer to that.

"You know, right?" I say quietly. It's not much of a question.

Peeta shifts slightly. He's silent, contemplating my words.

I rest my hand on his chest. "You know how I feel about you, right?"

"I can guess a little bit," he admits quietly. "Because you're still here."

Heat floods to my cheeks, but I prop myself up on an elbow to look at him. "I won't leave you. I won't do that."

He looks up at me, his eyes clearer now. A bright blue that draws me in like the ocean in District 4. A blue that echoes the sky in spring.

I can only hope that he understands what I mean. That I really am not going to leave. That I'll stay by him no matter what. That we're a team. That together, two broken people can become indestructible. That our story has formed a bond between us that cannot be severed by venom or war.

Its only as he props himself up next to me so we're facing each other that the bedroom door opens. Haymitch's head pokes in, disheveled. "If you two lovebirds are done up here, can you get out of bed and come downstairs? If you hadn't forgotten, we have a-"

"We'll be right down," I interrupt, wanting to save the surprise of Cinna's arrival for Peeta. Haymitch grumbles something about incompetence before shutting the door firmly.

Peeta shoots me a questioning look. "You'll see soon," I promise him as I flip the sheets off of us and scoot off the bed. "Its nothing bad, I promise."

His fingers snare my wrist in a soft grip, forcing me to turn and face him. "Katniss, I really want to thank you for last night. I'm sorry if I scared you or hurt you."

This brings forth a wave of irritation. "Peeta, you didn't even lay a finger on me," I say, exasperated. Though technically that's a lie since he touched my face after the episode, I'm right. His touch was neither violent nor murderous. Instead, it was tender.

He looks hurt. "You don't have to lie to me," he says stubbornly. "I won't be angry."

Suddenly, I _am_. "Peeta, you didn't. If you had, you would either be with Haymitch right now or I would have run off already."

The hurt in his eyes multiplies for a moment as I realize what I just said. "But I won't leave," I add quickly, trying to repair the damage. "Even if you had hurt me, Peeta, it would hurt me more if I left."

He gives me doubtful look, for the damage is already done. The need to reassure him that its the truth suddenly becomes overwhelming. I move towards him and take him into my arms, pulling him close. I inhale the scent of his skin, savoring it. Trying to permanently fix it into my memory.

"I promise you I won't go anywhere," I say quietly. I mean every word of it. I say it firmly, with belief. The belief that we help each other grow stronger. "I promise."

Peeta pulls me tightly against him in a crushing hug, and mumbles against my shoulder, "I hope not."

It takes a while to get Peeta dressed appropriately and out of bed, but soon, I'm leading him down the stairs to the living room where Haymitch is sitting, talking with Cinna.

As soon as Peeta sees Cinna, his jaw drops and he hurries to greet my so-called deceased stylist. His face in animated, as if he can't believe Cinna is alive and well. I know the feeling all too well because I can hardly believe it myself.

Peeta's face darkens for a moment when he sees what has happened to Cinna, but he doesn't let that stop him from being a good host as he offers everyone to stay the night for supper. Cinna declines politely with the excuse that he still has to settle in at his new house while Haymitch merely grunts and shrugs. We take that as a yes.

Cinna stays to talk to us for a while as Haymitch swaggers out of the room to go check on how his geese pen is coming along. "You look well, Peeta," Cinna says warmly as he prepares to leave.

Peeta smiles genuinely. "I only wish I felt as good as I look then." I sit beside him, not quite touching him.

Cinna stands, taking the sight of both of us in. "Well, I have to get going. I'm sure my assistants are wondering where I've gone." Peeta moves to help him to the door, but Cinna asks him quietly for a moment with me. Peeta, of course, obliges, and leaves the room quickly.

Cinna turns to where I sit on the couch. "Does that happen often?"

"Does what happen often?"

"The episodes."

I bite my lip, chewing on the chapped skin there nervously. "That's the first one in a while," I concede after a moment.

Cinna doesn't speak. "He hadn't had one ever since he returned to 12. Well, not that I know of. We've only recently started..." I clear my throat. "An arrangement."

"I see." Cinna moves to stand near where I am sitting. I move to stabilize his tall thin frame but he shakes his head. "How much do you cherish Peeta?"

The bluntness of his question hits me like a brick. I've asked myself this question countless times, only to come up with a jumbled response at best.

But there's something about Cinna that yanks the truth out of you. That makes you trust him. That lets you know that he would never betray you.

"A lot." There. That's the truth, right? But one look at Cinna's eyes tells me that its not enough of an explanation.

"I practically told the nation how I felt about him on national television," I say quietly. "I'm sure you've seen it."

"Yeah, but that's why I'm asking you now," he says.

I shrug. "What's the difference? Not much can change in the course of two and a half weeks."

"You just said you told the nation how you 'felt'."

The impact of his words strikes down. Oh. So that's why he knows things have changed for me about Peeta. _Dammit, Katniss. Why can't you be good at words like Peeta?_

"I..." I take a deep breath and steel myself. Deciding to entrust Cinna with my emotions and feelings. "I really can't live without him. He's the part of my life that holds me together."

Cinna raises an eyebrow. He knows I'm holding back.

Under his knowing gaze, I crack. "I think... I care about him," I whisper quietly, staring down at my folded hands in my lap. I'm ashamed that I'm reduced to revealing my thoughts to Cinna like some petty schoolgirl, but what other choice do I have? I don't have any girlfriends I can turn to for advice. And Haymitch is the closest thing I've got, if I'm willing to put up with his mocking jabs and cruel teasing.

Cinna's words are gentle, but pressing. "We already know you care about him."

Its these words that push me over the edge. Perhaps its time for me to really open up to people. Not everyone. But Peeta. And Cinna. Maybe Haymitch. There's no secrets to hide from Peacekeepers or Snow. There's nothing to hold me back.

Except myself.

So I break down that barrier immediately, if not reluctantly. Katniss Everdeen has never been one to trust, but this time, I can't survive on my own. I can't bottle it up inside until I burst. Because if I burst, I might never get pieced back together. Because if I hold it in, who knows if Peeta will move on and I will regret not asking Cinna for his advice?

The words come out easily, if not quietly.

I'm still timid about them, but never surer.

"I think I'm in love with Peeta."


	36. Chapter 34: Rebuild

Chapter 34

As soon as those words come out of my mouth, I am conflicted. Part of me would love to take them back, to pretend they never happened. I have never been one to openly admit my feelings, let alone feelings for someone else.

Let alone open up at all.

Then again, I can see in Cinna's eyes that he has nothing but compassion for me. I know he would never intentionally hurt me, especially over such a delicate topic.

Such as Peeta.

"You know, if I were you, I wouldn't wait much longer," Cinna says, his eyes dancing. "Peeta's a very special boy."  
I flush, barely able to tilt my head in an awkward nod. Yes, I do know that Peeta is very special. Any girl would be stupid not to see that he was the prime bachelor in the District. Blond hair, blue eyes. Gorgeous body. Born a Merchant. A baker. A Victor who has everything his heart desires.

Except children.

And I don't know any girl with half a mind who didn't want to give him that one thing he so desperately craved.

Except me.

"If you think you love him, then why haven't you told him yet?"

"I sort of did." I shrug.

Cinna frowns. "Knowing you, you just went around the subject, didn't you?"

I scowl. "Give me some credit. I don't know how to do any of this stuff."

"You obviously do, if you managed to proclaim it in front of the nation."

"That was different," I object. "I basically just said that I cared about him a lot."

"That you can't live without him? What does that say about you, Katniss? That statement is the definition of star-crossed lovers."

Cinna is right. "You know how the Capitol plays things up," I say weakly, but Cinna knows he's won.

"I'll give you these," he says as he indicates with his eyes to the building permits for the bakery on the table, "and you can always come over to my place at any time."

I nod and help Cinna out the door before heading up the stairs where Peeta had disappeared to. Peeta is in the art studio on his hands and knees, scrubbing at the paint he had tossed across the room. Sweat glistens on his brow as I take a sponge from the soapy bucket of water he has next to him and join him.

"I got it, Katniss," he says, but I simply shake my head. We clean the room, side by side, until the walls and floor are clean.

When Peeta picks up the ruined canvas, probably to throw it away, I stop him. "What was it?" I ask.

"The bombs," he says simply as he leans it up against the wall. "I'll throw it out later."

He takes me downstairs to join him in the kitchen, but instead, I pull him to the living room. He sits on the cushions heavily, as if he's still tired from earlier, before he sees the papers in my hands.

"What are those?"

I hand them to him as I carefully choose my next words. "Its the building permits for the bakery property."

He's reading over them carefully, his eyes focusing on the tiny fine print that lines the pages. "The Justice Building said that they are under the orders of Paylor to deliver any sort of materials or supplies we need the very next day. You could have the bakery open before the new year."

Peeta hasn't responded. He just remains hunched over the papers, his elbows on his knees as he reads them over. He looks up at me only when I lay a hand on his shoulder.

"Do you really think this will help?" His voice is innocent. Harmless. Like a small child's.

I nod, trying to sound confident. "Doctor Aurelius told Haymitch that we all need our own routines. I think baking is your routine."

Peeta snorts. "You don't even answer Doctor Aurelius's phone calls."

Its true. I want nothing to do with the Capitol now that I feel like I've done my duty and all that has been required of me. But I'm desperate to make Peeta believe that he can move on about his family's bakery.

"If I promise to take those calls, will you consider the bakery idea?" Peeta looks surprised. His eyebrows shoot up as I drop my hand down his arm and take his hand in mine.

He sighs then, pulling his hand away, surprising me instead. "I don't know, Katniss."

The anger returns. But this time I try to stem it off as much as possible. "Peeta, that's not fair. You keep asking me to move on and forget Prim and here I am, trying to do the same thing for you, and you won't even budge!"

Peeta gapes at me, but this time, he has the sense to grab my hands in his before I make a move to get away from the precarious situation I have just placed us in.

_"_I would never ask you to forget her, Katniss." Peeta's eyes are gentle, but his words are firm. "I could never ask you something like that."

He brushes his hand so his fingers graze mine and, after a moment, entwine themselves together. "But we're moving forward," I say, holding back the sense of hopelessness that suddenly comes out of nowhere. "Right?"

I know I don't want to forget Prim. I don't want to move on without her by my side. But Peeta has made me realize that she's gone. And that I really am wasting myself away after the rebellion. And that with his help, he's going to rebuild me.

The Mockingjay with broken wings.

"We'll remember," he says, as if he can read my mind. His hands still haven't let go of mine.

For once, I feel a bit of hope. With Peeta holding onto me, and with the prospect of a future with Prim still remembered in it, I feel as if life could perhaps finally have some sort of purpose for me. Besides, Cinna is alive. Peeta's episode didn't result in him trying to murder me.

Maybe things are looking up.

Peeta's eyes shine as he looks at me. His lips tilt up into a grin.

"So, when do we go order the construction supplies we need? Bakeries don't get built overnight."


	37. Chapter 35: Building

Chapter 35

The next day, Peeta and I head to Gale's house, specifically to ask him if he knew anyone who would be interested in helping us reconstruct the bakery. We had a small argument over Gale. Mostly because I was accusing Peeta of harping over the past, but we settled our differences temporarily when the bread in Peeta's oven began to burn.

It unsettles me to find that me and Peeta are being so snappish to each other. But I'm sure that the past few days of us pushing each other around and our own personal stresses have taken their toll on us and that we are just tired. I plan to take Peeta to the lake so we can cool our tempers in the winter wilderness.

As we reach Gale's house in a stiff silence, I hear Peeta sigh. "Look, I'm sorry," he says exasperated. "I just want you to give him another chance now that he's-"

"He killed my sister. I don't care if he doesn't remember. What's done is done," I growl lowly, before knocking on the door.

Peeta lets out another long sigh. "But you gave me another chance when I tried to-"

He doesn't finish because Gale opens the door. He immediately welcomes in, no hesitation whatsoever, and quickly helps us by making a few phone calls to some friends he happens to remember from his 'life' back in District 12.

As much as I would like to hide it, it hurts that Gale can memorize phone numbers of people he hasn't seen in years yet he can't even remember a single day we spent together, hunting and laughing together.

He manages to get his friend, Thom, to helps us with our construction project. He hands us a phone number and an address scribbled messily on a slip of paper. "He's an old friend of mine from when I used to work in the coal mines," he explains, shaking Peeta's hand firmly with an easy-going grin. "I'm sure he will even give you a discounted price."

Peeta talks amiably with Gale for a while as I peruse his living room slowly. Gale has some pictures of his family. Posy and Vick, playing together on a tire swing hanging from a tree. Hazelle, standing in a kitchen with a warm smile gracing her cheeks. There's also one with Gale and Madge. I'm surprised at this one. I've never seen the two interact closely. But as I look closer, I realize that the corner of the picture is labeled.

_74th annual Hunger Games Reaping celebration._

I feel sick to my stomach. So he was here celebrating with Madge while I was preparing for the fight of my life? He was here, celebrating his last year of not being chosen, while I was dealing with more people than I had ever seen in my life.

The urge to rip the picture up springs up, but I squash it down.

Its not my place to judge Gale. Not when I ended up with Peeta. Not when I hadn't known how he felt as I spent a good portion of the Games gallivanting around and kissing Peeta.

Peeta calls out for me and motions that we have to get going if we're going to place our order today. I bid a tight goodbye to Gale, who doesn't seem to notice how tense my voice is.

Peeta and I walk crisply down to the address listed on the paper. I can feel how tense Peeta is. Perhaps he's worried he'll set me off again. But I ignore it. Right now, the important thing is getting to Thom so we can start the bakery. So we can start helping Peeta.

Thom, it turns out, is no older than Gale. He's only a few years older than we are, but he looks younger. It must be because he hasn't been through two Games and a war, I think wryly, but scold myself immediately afterwards.

Thom agrees enthusiastically to take on the job and immediately tells us he will call a few of the workers that he knows that will help him. It takes him a while to figure out how to use the telephone on the wall, since all homes have just had them installed, but soon, he's telling us that they would be ready to work the next day and to order the materials.

Peeta takes me to the Justice Building then, still not saying much of anything. But before we approach the steps, I instinctively take his hand to help him up the icy steps. He doesn't pull away and keeps his fingers wrapped around mine as we enter the cement structure together.

Peeta sets an order for construction supplies while I stand beside him, still holding his hand. I watch as he instructs the Capitol attendant on exactly the kind of details he wants on the materials, his words confident and his eyes focused solely on the forms in front of him.

I smirk to myself. Perhaps he wanted this more than he really knew he did.

As Peeta signs off on the materials order, I look across the room to find the marriage broker's desk. There's a couple there, one that I don't recognize at all. However, what strikes me the most about the couple is the fact that the man is olive-skinned, dark haired, gray-eyed. And the woman next to him is the absolute definition of Merchant. Blond locks. Blue eyes.

Their arms are slung around each others' waists as they hold each other close, side by side. Their heads are bent together as they listen to the marriage broker's words carefully before the man nods and signs off on the paper eagerly. The woman follows suit, and before I know it, the man is laughing. He's laughing loudly, picking up the woman by the waist and spinning her around. Her smile is radiant, one of pure happiness and joy. And when her feet touch the ground again, the man pulls her into such a passionate, loving kiss that I'm squirming as I watch.

The whole thing gets to me. Merchants and Seam folk usually don't mix. I'm surprised to find that now things have changed. Drastically.

I'm also a little embarrassed to realize that I had been wondering what it would be like if that were me and Peeta.

Would we be here just like that if we were going to get married? The thought of marriage never crossed my mind up until now and I'm not even sure if I like it.

But as I look at the pure happiness etched on both of their faces as they rush out of the Justice Building, I can't help but think that Peeta would be just as happy, if not happier, than the two of them if one day he married some girl who gave him just as much love as he gave her.

There's an awful twisting sensation in my chest at that thought. Another girl running down those steps with Peeta. My Peeta.

"Hey, everything's set and ready to go." Peeta's voice pulls me from my reverie. He looks puzzled as he follows my gaze, but the man and woman are gone. "Something wrong?"  
"No no," I say quickly. I somehow don't want to breach the topic of marriage with Peeta. "Its fine. I was just wondering how long the bakery would take to build," I lie.

Peeta chuckles. "So hasty," he rumbles as he takes my arm in his and leads me to the door. "The shipment will be in tomorrow with the next train. Paylor put all of our deliveries on express shipment, so we get them as soon as possible."

"That's generous of her," I say, just trying to keep conversation going while I try to control my scrambled thoughts of marriage and Peeta and love. Then I notice the direction that Peeta is dragging me. "Peeta, the property is that way, not wherever we're going."

He shrugs. "We don't really have to go see it," he says, but I know he's really just avoiding having to see the flat empty space his whole childhood had been.

"Yes, we do." I tug my arm free, leaving Peeta standing in the road, shuffling his feet in the snow. "Come on."

"You go on home then," he says finally. "I... I don't want to be disturbed. Not when I'm there."

I understand. I like being alone when I grieve for Prim. For Finnick. For Boggs. For those who sacrificed their lives.

So I agree to let him grieve his family like I've grieved for mine.

"I'll see you at home then," I say quietly. His eyes are downcast. "Yeah."

Before I can stop myself, I lean in and place a small kiss on his cheek. I don't linger there for more than a second, but I end it quickly before saying, "Okay", turning on my heel, and walking away slowly, wondering why I did it.


	38. Chapter 36: Hours

Chapter 36

Peeta has been gone for quite a long time. The sun is setting and a light dusting of snow has begun to fall. As much as I hate it, I'm actually pacing the house, wondering where he is.

I get that he is mourning his family. Two brothers. A loving father. A mother. Violent, but still his mother. It must be hard for him to give his condolences to his entire family.

It's still hard for me to do so for Prim without cracking.

But even now, I hope that Peeta is okay. I bite my lip. _I should've gone with him, _I think, but I know that isn't what he would have wanted.

That doesn't stop me from worrying about him though.

_Oh, screw it._ I grow tired of waiting so I decide to go check on him. Perhaps I'll run into him on his way back.

I shrug on my coat and tug my leather boots on before stepping outside. The snowflakes fall, large blobs that stick to my hood and melt on my face on contact. Its the kind of snow that's wet enough to form snowballs, or even build snowmen and forts. My father used to teach me and Prim how to make them, spending hours with us out in the cold until we perfected it, or until my mother would call us in in fear that we would all catch a cold.

The snow crunches lightly under my feet as I head out of town, spotting Gale sitting on his front steps with a steaming mug in his hands. At first, I almost decide to ignore him and continue walking. It _is _Peeta that I am looking for.

But he seems so content and looks so much like the carefree Gale I used to know when we would hunt together that I find myself suddenly walking towards him.

Gale tears his gaze away from the falling snowflakes to see what he hears is approaching him. When he sees it is me, the left side of his face tilts up into a lopsided grin. "Ms. Everdeen, I-"

"Really, just call me Katniss," I insist under my breath.

He smiles, as if my interruption hadn't fazed him one bit. "Okay, Catnip."

This makes me start. "What did you call me?"

But he only looks confused. "Didn't you say 'Catnip'?"

I shake my head and he quickly amends, "Sorry, I must've misheard you, Katniss."

This brings forth a pang in my chest. It was only when we first met that we had a similar exchange. Except this time, Gale was all too willing to turn away from the familiar nickname that was once his to call me.

If he can't remember the name he used to call me for six long years, then I suppose he really is a new Gale. The thought saddens me. But is it because I have lost such a familiar presence in my life? Or because I lost the reason that Prim is dead?

I shuffle awkwardly for a moment before muttering, "Its cold."

He nods. "I usually hate this weather, but its so peaceful out here."

I understand perfectly. Gale and I used to hunt nearly twice as much when it was winter, since the animals holed themselves up for hours before coming out. It would be bitterly cold and we would come home with less game than usual, leaving us cold, wet, and still quite hungry.

But nothing beat the serenity of the forest. When I was out in the trees, Gale said it was the only time I would actually smile. I partially believe it, but only because I knew that Prim's smile could also do the trick.

I pull myself back before I can dwell on Prim. "Yeah. I know." Gale shrugs and offers me a spot next to him to sit down, but I decline quickly.

"Maybe later," I say. "I'm looking for Peeta."

"Oh, yeah. He hasn't come back yet," Gale says cheerfully. He takes a sip of the steaming liquid from his mug. "You both could come over for coffee later, if you'd like."

I wrinkle my nose and he notices, laughing. "Or some other beverage," he says, his eyes shining with amusement.

I find my lips moving into a small smile at his happiness. Its nice to see that I can still amuse him, even after our lives have fallen apart. It feels familiar. Right.

"I'll see you later, Gale," I say, waving as I head out of town. He calls a quick goodbye after me in return.

For the first time since Prim died, I feel a bit of warmth towards Gale. It both unnerves me and relieves me, mostly because of Prim. I don't know whether or not to pursue a friendship with him, let alone forgive him. Don't friends forgive each other? Trust each other? I just don't know who I can trust as of late.

As I walk through town, I pull my hood over my head to conserve heat and so I won't have to make eye contact with anyone who happens to be walking by. I mentally make a note to thank Cinna for lining the coat with faux fur. The soft material feels amazingly good against my cold skin.

I'm nearing the bakery when a laugh rings out through the usually quiet winter air. I look up towards the sound instinctively, only to wish that I hadn't.

Peeta is a few feet away from the remains of the bakery, now a cleared away area thanks to a few workers who had already removed the debris. From the footsteps in the snow, he must have walked around on the land, for they snake around as if he were walking through actual doorways and rooms.

But the sympathy I feel for him immediately evaporates as I see where the laugh had come from. A girl, one of the Merchants from school a long time ago, is standing by Peeta.

Too close to Peeta.

That's the only thing that really registers as I stand there, frozen, is that Peeta is smiling as the girl tosses her blond curls this way and that, lightly touching his upper arm with her fingers.

Peeta laughs as she says something funny, which sets something off in me. He's supposed to be grieving for his family, not flirting with this Merchant girl who doesn't know half the pain he's going through.

I'm upset then, because I can see that Peeta's happy. Yes, he was going to pay his respects to his family, but maybe she had come upon him just as he was about to leave? Maybe she could share her condolences with him, then they could walk together and talk about the memories of their Merchant lives-

I stop myself angrily. Look at me, jealous. Just as bad as those girls at school who used to snarl at me because they thought I was dating Gale.

I'm deciding whether or not I should just turn around and leave when Peeta looks up. His eyes light up when he catches sight of me, but dim when they see the dejected look on my face. He must know how conflicted I'm feeling right now because he excuses himself from the girl before jogging up to me.

"Katniss, you didn't have to come out in this weather," he says. He drops his gaze to where my arms are wrapped around my chest. "You're shivering."

Its true. I am trembling. But not for the reasons he thinks I am.

"You didn't come back." Its partially true, only because I decided not to wait any longer. But Peeta's brow furrows. "I was just on my way home," he says but the accusations are welling up within me.

"Why were you taking so long? Because you were talking to her?" I burst.

Peeta is startled because his hands fall from where he had placed them on my shoulders. "What? No-"  
But I'm too confused. I don't even want to hear it. I had been waiting hours. Hours for him to come home. To come back to me.

And here he is, standing here talking to some strange girl.

"You can stay and talk to your friend," I say quietly, not sure if I'm angry or bitter or saddened. "I have someone to go see anyways."

I turn around and walk away slowly, not even bothering to give any indication that I hear Peeta calling after me. There's only one place I want to be right now. There's only one person that perhaps I can talk to.

I walk straight back to Gale's house without turning back once.


	39. Chapter 37: Gale

Chapter 37

Gale is no longer outside, probably because the sun is just on the horizon and the temperature has dropped considerably since I last spoke to him. He opens the door to find me on his steps after I knock hesitantly. "Katniss."

"Can I come in?" I bite my lip. It still feels odd looking at him. I'm staring into the face of the person responsible for my sister, but that I can't blame him because he doesn't know what he's done. Its like looking in the face of a wild dog, not sure if its going to lunge at you or simply turn around and walk away.

He steps to the side to allow me inside and I quickly take him up on his offer before I spook and think twice about what I'm doing.

Gale closes the door behind me as I shed my coat and hang it on a hook on the wall. "Everything okay?"

"Can I ask you something?" I blurt out. I hardly have any idea what I'm doing, but there's something driving me forward.

Gale looks surprised by nods. "Anything."

"Do you think Peeta likes me?"

Its such a stupid thing to ask. For one, Peeta has faked being in loved with me for the past two and a half years. Well, maybe not faked it completely. But he still has shown more affection for me than anyone else, even if he was sort of bound to the Mockingjay now.

Gale sits slowly, settling himself down on a leather chair. He looks almost completely different from the Gale I used to know. He wears finer clothes, for one thing. Clothes that are made of high quality fabrics and tailored perfectly to his broad lanky form. But I still picture the boy that had starved when I starved. Had worked as much as I worked when we went out in the woods. Now they were two separate people.

"Anyone can tell that he loves you," Gale says bluntly, honestly. I shake my head, but he continues. "I know what you mean. Don't think I don't. I know the situation the two of you are in."

I swallow. "Who told you?"

"Haymitch. And Cinna. And Paylor, when she figured it out too."

I gawk at him. "Does _everyone _know?"

He smirks then. "Not the rest of Panem."

For some reason, relief floods over me. "Oh."

"But you really can't tell, Katniss? Don't you see the way he looks at you? The way he talks about you?" Gale has a point. I haven't. So I shake my head.

Gale's eyebrows shoot up for a moment. "Katniss, if that isn't love, then I don't know what is."

"You loved me once," I say quietly before I can hold the words in.

But Gale's reaction isn't one I expect. "I know." He looks down at his hands, clasped in front of him. His elbows are resting on his knees. But before I can ask him, he just says, "Paylor told me. Haymitch confirmed it."

I squirm into the soft cushions of the sofa. The awkward feelings come back. They coagulate into one thought: _I probably shouldn't be here._

"You're probably wondering what I'm thinking now." Gale sounds amused, but I'm not. He snorts, probably sensing it.

"I don't remember," he says, wringing his hands together. "I don't remember being in love with you. Kissing you. Apparently, I did that?" He looks up with a small smile, but I don't return it. It disappears quickly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Its just that the entire nation seems to think you're the most attractive woman in the country."

"That does make me uncomfortable," I say firmly. "I don't want to be under the spotlight or have people actively looking for me. I don't find myself attractive, not after I've been scarred." I don't tell him that I mean physically _and _mentally. I just don't find myself wanting to confide that much in him yet.

But then why was I asking him about Peeta? Does that count as confiding?

Gale sits back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. "I can't believe you don't realize how lucky you are."

"Lucky?" I'm about to snap at him when he continues.

"You have the nation at your beck and call practically, the most popular man of Panem by your side and irrevocably in love with you, anything you could ever want courtesy of Paylor." He tips his head to the side. "You have everything you need to put yourself back together."

This somehow stops me from crossing the room and slapping him for his previous comment. Peeta has mentioned repeatedly of helping each other, but now that Gale is the one pointing it out to me from his perspective, I realize how much Peeta _hasn't _been pressing me. He hasn't brought up the fact that I do indeed have much more than anyone in Panem. He hasn't forced me to try and do anything that I didn't think I was ready for.

He's waited.

He's always been waiting.

Gale seems to realize how much mental anguish I'm experiencing because he says, "Look, I know that's probably not what you wanted to hear. I'm sorry."

"No." I raise my hand to stop him. "No, you're right. I-" I stop.

I have to find Peeta.

Because Gale has made me acknowledge one very important fact.

I do indeed have everything I need to rebuild.

But what would happen if I lost the one piece that I really need?  
Peeta.

I turn to Gale as I shoot to my feet. "I need to apologize," I blurt out, panic rising in my chest. "I-"

Gale stands and walks over to me, placing a hand on my back before ushering me to the door. "Go then," he encourages lightly, a grin moving across his lips. He tosses me my coat quickly. "I can't believe it takes you long to figure these things out."

He only laughs when I shoot him a glare.

"So what are you going to go do?" he asks as he helps me into my coat.

My heart is beating wildly in my chest. I know what I'm going to go do, but it doesn't change the fact that I'm scared out of my mind, ashamed that I hadn't realized that it should've been done a long time ago, and beating myself up with my guilt over yelling at Peeta and just confusing things between the two of us.

He really does deserve someone better.

But I need him to know.

I need him to know that I do, in fact, love him.

Its the first time I really do admit it to myself. And to Gale, I realize.

"I love him," I tell Gale, turning to him. After a brief pause, I realize, "You knew."

Gale smiles, confirming my suspicions. "Well, if Peeta is even half in love as he was last time I saw him, I would say that the odds are entirely in your favor."

And at that moment, the bond between me and Gale- severed by war and death, torn by loyalty and jealousy, broken by pain and sorrow- flickers back to life.


	40. Chapter 38: Real

Chapter 38

As soon as I leave Gale's house, I feel almost liberated in some ways. The sunset is at that time of day where its casting pinkish rays against the clouds. It hints for a beautiful view once the sun touches the horizon.

I take in a deep breath before forcing my feet in the direction from which I came from. It feels good to be talking with Gale again. Perhaps its because he is like a brand new person. Or perhaps its because he seems to understand better this time around, especially concerning Peeta and my own feelings.

Or perhaps its because he knows he did something that killed a part of me and apologizes for it, even though he doesn't recognize what it is.

I pity him for that. Its almost like carrying a burden that's not yours. He's taking the blame for old Gale. Like an innocent child sticking up for the wrongdoings of its parent or sibling.

Maybe that's why I've finally allowed myself to give him some slack.

The emotions I feel towards him vary from cautiousness to pity to irritation to sadness. But now, I can truthfully say that I can add feeling safe and comfortable enough to talk to him normally without wanting to yell at him about Prim.

I decide that at the moment, my relationship with Gale is neutral. That's the best word I can come up with to describe it.

As I approach the bakery, I notice that the town is quiet. Everyone must be inside, warding off the chill that the night will bring once the sun drops down. But as I look over at the bakery, expecting Peeta to still be there, it comes to my attention that he isn't.

_Where could he have gone? _I'm confused because Peeta hadn't gone home. I would have seen him from where I was sitting in Gale's living room.

It comes again. That sheer panic I feel whenever I suspect something is wrong. Where could he be? He would tell me whenever he goes anywhere. But I had left him before he could even get those words out.

My eyes dart around as I wildly sort through the suggestions in my mind. _If he's not at the bakery, or at home... _

I break into a run, headed straight for the woods. _Of course, _I think to myself as I slide through the doorway of the new protective fence the government had installed in 12. _The meadow._

I fly across through the trees, trying to stop the panic from seizing my limbs. I know that if I let my pounding heart and twisted thoughts get to me, they will send me tumbling to the ground. And I can't let anything stop me right now.

Because if I stop, I might let the fear get to me.

Then Peeta won't know how I feel.

It unnerves me a bit to realize just how urgently I need to tell Peeta this. It was only weeks ago where I wanted nothing to do with a relationship. Where I was perfectly fine with remaining alone. Unattached.

What I didn't realize was how critical a role Peeta played in that lifestyle. How he would come over every day or vice versa. How he would let me use the bathroom first every morning and cook me breakfast. How he would offer to help me clean the game I brought home.

And for that, I will always be unable to repay his kindness.

Except now, I also realize that it isn't about owing anymore.

Its about what we need. What we want.

_I need this, _I think grimly. _I never thought I would, but I do. I need him._

I explode out of the trees and spot the open fields of the meadow ahead of me, sloping upwards to the overlook of the forest. Without slowing my steps, I ascend the hill, keeping my eyes peeled for Peeta.

I see him almost as soon as I spot the oak tree that I had staked as our spot days ago, just before Cinna's unexpected arrival at the Justice Building. He's a ways away from the oak tree's strong, thick trunk. He sits on the grass with his knees propped up in front of him, his elbows resting on them. He is staring at the view from the overlook, now an explosion of color.

The sunset is absolutely beautiful, unlike any I've ever seen. It must be the winter weather, because the colors are vivid. Bright reds. Muted oranges. Tinges of gold. Streaks of purple along the horizon. And underneath the masterpiece the sky has painted, the forest stands tall and peaceful, the trees casting shadows and creating patterns all along the valley.

But the sunset isn't the thing that takes my breath away. Its Peeta that does. He looks so lonely, sitting there by himself on the dead grass that has, luckily, been shielded from snow by the protective overhanging branches of the oak tree. The breeze tousles his hair this way and that, giving him an endearing childish quality that calls me to him. But his broad shoulders are silhouetted against the bright sunset, telling of his strength. Of his courage. Both of which remind me of his dedication to me.

Which reminds me of my dedication to him.

The urgency returns, gnawing at me this time so intensely that it almost physically hurts to look at this boy before me and be unable to call him mine.

Fear springs up to join the urgency. What if he turns me down? What if he doesn't want to deal with me and my problems anymore and just wants to start over? Maybe with that blond Merchant girl he was talking to earlier?

My limbs are trembling. I'm about to make a fool of myself. Or cry. Or both. I force myself forward before I can change my mind.

Peeta watches the sunset without moving. As I approach him, I can see that he is fiddling with little stones, tossing them up in the air so he can catch them. He doesn't hear my hunter's tread and jumps in surprise when I quickly move in front of him, kneeling.

"Hi-" he beings, but I interrupt him.

The words tumble out. Fast. Maybe he can't understand what I'm saying but I have to say it anyways. My stomach twists in uncomfortable knots.

"You're a painter. You're a baker. Your favorite color is orange. You never take sugar in your tea." He's staring at me. Emotions flash across his face. Is he happy? Confused? Mystified? I push on, regardless, before the tears can fall.

"You like to sleep with the windows open. You always double-knot your shoelaces. You saved me from the Careers. You saved me from the Capitol. You left, but you came back. And I don't-" I stop, panting from running over here. In my haste, I almost had forgotten that its not about me anymore. And that I want Peeta to decide if he needs me the exact same way I need him.

I stand and walk to the edge of the overlook, my face to the sunset.

I'm confused. He must noticed it. He's been far too quiet. I take in a deep breath, calming my racing heartbeat as I add softly, "I don't want to lose you."

His eyes soften and he walks over, remaining a respectable distance away from me. I immediately wish that he would just take me in his arms and hug me close. I can tell he feels unsure, mostly because I'm so sensitive to love and all emotions related to it, and is avoiding touching me. But instead of making me happy, I crave it all the more. _He has no idea, _I think. _The effect that he has._

"You'll never lose me, Katniss." He says softly, but that's not enough for me. It doesn't satisfy the ache I'm feeling inside that I get when he's not around. When I know that he isn't mine.

"I love you," I blurt out quickly, and I feel as if the earth has shifted beneath me. "I don't know how I know or why. But I need you, Peeta." A tear slips from my eye and I curse it inwardly. Tears. A sign of weakness. I can't even look at him now, deep shame and embarrassment welling in my stomach.

I don't know how long I stand there, waiting for his answer, but he doesn't speak right away.

Instead, he pulls me into his arms and buries his head into my neck, right along my signature braid. I can hear his breathing, uneven and harsh. "You just told me you love me. Real or not real?"

Tears threaten to spill over onto my cheeks. But I remind myself that I can't back down anymore. Not with Peeta. Even if we still have to play this game to understand exactly what the other is feeling.

I close my eyes and push my face into his shoulder, tightening my arms around him. The rays of the sunlight shine brightly on us, illuminating the field in harsh and pale rays of orange light. Its him. Peeta is my light. He's the sunset I can go to at the end of the day. Dependable. Radiant. And its all real.

"Real, Peeta. It's real."


	41. Chapter 39: Sunset

_AHA. SO THIS IS HOW YOU WRITE AUTHORS NOTES ._. Hi everybody! Thank you for reading WFDD! I'm always looking for more followers and favorites, so please do so (: Enjoy the new chapter! Read, review, and share with everyone please! :D It'd make me so happy!_

Chapter 39

It gets too cold when the sun begins to disappear behind the mountains in the distance, even with Peeta holding me against him. We had retreated to the shelter of the oak tree, me sitting in between Peeta's legs as he wraps his arms around my shoulders from behind. He's playing with my braid hanging down over my shoulder, toying with the bound end and resting his chin on the crook between my shoulder and my neck.

Meanwhile, I relish the warmth in Peeta's arms. I indulge myself on a few quick peeks at Peeta's muscular arms as they remain casually looped around my torso. I also have to keep reminding myself that I finally told him. That its real.

The moment is perfect.

Peeta seems to think so too because he stops and simply seems to be immersing himself in the last dying rays of the sunset.

It feels good. So unbelievably good to be in Peeta's arms. To finally be free of my conflicting emotions over this boy who played such an important role in my past. To have him now, also an important part of my future.

As I look out towards the sunset with Peeta, I'm struck with the thought of another particular sunset. One that Peeta and I had also watched. Under different circumstances, of course, but when I was also beginning to realize my feelings for Peeta were perhaps more than just being District partners.

"Do you remember the training center roof?"

He looks momentarily thoughtful when I say this. "Yes, I only went up there twice, I think."

"When you wanted to freeze that moment and live in it forever?" I press. I don't know why I feel the need to tell Peeta this, but he does nod and follow along with wherever I'm going with this.

"Well, I'm glad it didn't," I say quickly. His arms let go of me and I don't even have to look at him to know he's hurt.

"Why?" His voice sounds strained and I immediately wish he knew where I was going with this.

So I tell him, fast, because I don't want to hurt him anymore. Not with my words. But if he takes them that way, then I'll just have to show him in actions. The only way I know how to express myself clearly.

I turn around so I'm kneeling in front of him. He looks crestfallen, but his eyes go curious when I reach out and place my hand on his shoulder. Peeta looks up and meets my even gaze. Or at least I hope it is. My heart is pounding so hard, I'm sure he can hear it.

But the words slip out easily, almost as if they were rehearsed. Which they weren't. Which is why my voice cracks a bit.

"Because then we wouldn't be able to live in right now."

I lean over, using the hand I have on his shoulder as support as I press him back against the tree. Before he can say anything, however, I press my lips to his, silencing him.

Its different. When I kissed Peeta before, I felt almost guilty. Mostly because we were supposed to be fake lovers and the 'hottest couple in Panem'. I never felt good enough. I was never the equal to Peeta's easy fluency in speech. His good looks. His kindness and patience.

No, I was the complete opposite to his perfection. I doubt I would ever deserve him.

His lips are slightly chapped from the cold, but he tastes the same as I run my lips across his, closing my eyes to preserve the experience. He's so familiar to me, everything about him. The softness of his blond hair. The smell of his clothes and of him. The sound of his breathing, harsh with lust and soft with compassion. The heat of his breath against my mouth. His heartbeat, hammering against my other hand which had flown to his chest in keep him in place as I continue the kiss.

Yes, this kiss is different in such a good way, a strange happiness seems to take over my actions. I run the hand over his heart over his collarbone, extracting a satisfying groan from Peeta as his arms go around my waist, unable to pull me any closer because I am kneeling. Its so much better than before. I'm not lying anymore. Not to Panem. Not to Paylor. Not to Haymitch, who always saw through me anyways. Not to anyone who I owe the truth to. And especially not to myself.

I can feel Peeta shift under my caresses, his hands tightening around my hips. He attempts to pull me closer, but he seems lost in the sensations that our kiss is creating and he just gives up, opening his lips to mine as I dip my tongue to meet his.

A delicious heat is building inside and it both scares and excites me that only Peeta can do this to me. I remember the feelings I had for Peeta before when I kissed him, but now it feels like an inferno instead of flames. It burns brighter every time Peeta's hands move across my waist and it only fuels the flames instead of smothering them. I'm aching by the time I pull away. But I need to hear him say it too.

"Please tell me you want this just as much as I do." The words sound breathy coming from my mouth. Perhaps because I'm panting. But our faces are so close together, it honestly doesn't matter because he can hear every word I whisper.

Peeta's answer is only to crush his mouth against mine again. He pushes up against the tree so he can reposition himself against the rough wood. I can only try to see through the haze in my mind as all my thoughts disappear.

It takes the blistering cold to remind us that the sunlight is rapidly disappearing, leaving us in the darkened setting of night. Peeta pulls away reluctantly. "You don't know how long I wanted this," he responds to my question, his eyes meeting mine earnestly.

I swallow. I can't exactly pinpoint the exact moment when Peeta had fallen in love with me. He claims it is that one day he saw me sing in front of the entire class after his father had pointed me out to him, but I can barely remember that day except for the fact that I did indeed wear a red plaid dress and had my hair in two braids.

But I do realize that Peeta had confessed his love for me almost 2 years ago during the first Games when Caesar asked him during the interviews. And now I realize that he truly meant every word he said. He was in love with me. It was just me who wasn't in love with him.

Except now I am.

"We have to go. Its too cold to be out here," Peeta says, moving to his feet. He offers me his hand to hoist me up, but once we begin walking out the meadow, his hand never leaves mine, keeping it in a warm gentle grasp.

As we walk up to Peeta's front door, I spot Haymitch, sitting on the front steps. He scowls at us as soon as we are within talking distance.

"I've been waiting forever," he growls as he gets to his feet. "I'm hungry and cold."

I snort, but Haymitch's eyes drop down to my hand, entwined with Peeta's. He looks up with a sneer, but Peeta has already unlocked the door and pulls us both inside to get warm. I end up walking up the stairs instead of towards the kitchen, mumbling an excuse on having to change out of my clothes.

I head to the upstairs bathroom, eager to take off my wet socks and put something fresh on instead, but its only when I'm searching in the closet for clean clothes that I know I'm not alone.

"What do you want, Haymitch?" I sigh, closing the closet door after pulling out a clean t-shirt and a pair of Peeta's sweatpants.

Haymitch is grinning at me. The expression is equivalent to Buttercup's when he knows he's done something he's not supposed to. "So, you and the boy?"

"What about me and Peeta?" I snap, suddenly frustrated. "Its not wrong."

Haymitch's grin disappears. "No, but I just want to know how much you're going to put into this," he says sternly.

I resist the urge to kick him out of the house. "I want this," I say truthfully, if not a little shirtily. "I'm going to do this right."

Haymitch snorts before pulling out his flask unscrewing the cap.

"Just make sure you know what your heart wants before you pull his into this."

He takes a swig before turning the corner, shutting the door behind him.

When the door clicks, I'm left with more determination than ever to prove him wrong.


	42. Chapter 40: Four

_I keep forgetting to write author's notes ._. I'm still getting used to the whole thing that I just end up copy-pasting and forgetting to write ANs right away in my haste to put up a new chapter ): Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! New things coming soon and it'll be awesome to see what you guys think! Review, favorite, follow please (: They all drive me forward!_

Chapter 40

Another few weeks have passed peacefully. Peeta and I continue our routine, almost as if my declaration of love hadn't happened. I'm pretty sure that Peeta is just stepping carefully around me, not sure how much affection he can give me without pushing our boundaries.

It both relieves and frustrates me.

Yes, I am relieved that Peeta doesn't push me to do anything I don't want. I don't know how I would react if he ever did.

Which also brings up the fact that it frustrates me. Sometimes I secretly wish that he would. I don't know how I would react if Peeta was the one to initiate the romantic exchanges.

But its Peeta. He's practically the most romantic man in all of Panem.

I shake my head, wondering why I'm even pondering over these thoughts. Peeta has been out all day, supervising the construction of the bakery. It is coming along well, the building almost complete as Peeta has me help him pick out the little details that will make it ours- the paint for the walls, the doorknob for the front door, the display cases for the pastries. He seems to want to include me in everything, which warms me every time I think about it.

Over the past few weeks since I told Peeta how I truly felt, I can tell that he's been including me in almost every aspect of his life. We talk more now, not that it really makes a difference since we know almost everything about each other. But we do try to fill each other in on our days. Peeta also has taken to giving me a kiss before we go to bed. He seems content by the way he sighs comfortably right when I press myself into that space in between his arms where I belong. "I love you," he always says before pressing a kiss somewhere on my face, whether it be my cheek or my forehead, and falling asleep. He never expects me to say it back. He's already heard it once. But I personally hope that one day, I will be able to overcome my fears of love and convince myself that me and Peeta will not end up like my mother and father.

Its almost time for dinner when Peeta comes home, shivering but beaming. He throws off his heavy coat, dusted with snow, and comes over to where I am stirring the soup. "Hey," he says, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his head on my shoulder.

I try to ignore the sparks that fly from his touch. "Hi. How is the bakery?"

Peeta tries to keep the grin off his face. "Its finished! We just need to get the painting and furnishing done. Thom says he can get a few people to do it for free. They'll install the new ovens and prep the kitchen. I want us to do the painting."

"Us?" I say questioningly. I turn around in his arms after flipping the heat down to low on the stove.  
He nods. "I want you to be a part of it too," he says, his eyes meeting mine earnestly. "Its because of you that the bakery is built. Its because of you that I'm back to doing something I love." He bends his head and kisses my cheek softly. "You're a part of it all, Katniss. You're a part of me."

I flush hot at his words. They hit me right in that spot I have in my heart only for him. The one that I refused to believe would ever lead to good. The one I was scared to acknowledge because of my mother and father.

"You're my whole life," he says. He pulls me to him quickly and places a kiss on my lips. Its gentle, one that makes me wish he would deepen it and breathe me in. But when I open myself to him, he pulls back with a grin.

"What?" I ask, a little dazed from his affection.

"Christmas is in a week," he says, releasing me so he can grab some bowls from the cupboard. "Did you forget?"  
"No." To be honest, I hadn't. In fact, I was well aware of the fact simply because I was searching for the perfect Christmas gift for Peeta. I had already gotten most of the gifts taken care of already, wrapped carefully and placed in a neat pile in the closet. But I still hadn't gotten Peeta's yet.

Peeta smiles then. "We should get a tree," he muses. "You know, the ones from 7?"

"I saw them on the train that brought you back to 12," I say, remembering. "I was considering buying one for Sae and her granddaughter."

His eyes glow warmly. "So, we'll get a tree?"

I find myself warming to the idea of spending Christmas with Peeta. Normally, people in the Seam didn't celebrate Christmas the same way that Merchants and other Districts did. Mostly because we were so poor.

But Christmas really wasn't about gifts. It never was for me. It was about spending it with people that you love. People that you cherish. So spending Christmas with Peeta seemed almost unreal.

"Okay," I say, placing the portions of soup out on the table along with a sliced loaf of bread. Peeta sits at the table and waits for me to join him before picking up his spoon.

"You know, its going to be our first official Christmas together," he says. He looks relaxed, happy. I nod, trying to suppress my own smile. It feels so right that I don't want to ruin the moment at all.

I can feel the lone thought in the back of my mind, reminding me that Prim won't be here this time. That she won't be able to open up a present. That I won't be able to see the smile on her face when I treat her to a gingerbread cookie from the bakery. Not that the bakery is really there anymore, but things are new now. A new bakery. A new Christmas.

Peeta's hand resting on mine pulls me back. I look up from my soup to find Peeta looking at me worriedly. "Did I-"

"Yeah, you disappeared for a while," he says, his eyebrows knitting in concern. "Are you okay?"

I nod distractedly. "Don't worry about it, Peeta. How long?"

"A few minutes." His lip twitches as if he wants to say more, but the phone rings, interrupting him.

We share a surprised glance, mostly because the phone hardly ever rings. Sure, there have been a few calls from Doctor Aurelius since I promised Peeta that I would try to talk to him more, but my next call was scheduled after Christmas. Not before.

Peeta moves to get up, but I hold a hand out to stop him. "I got it. Just rest. Your leg must be killing you."

I move to pick up the phone, grasping the cold plastic before lifting it off the receiver with a click. "Hello?"

"K-Katniss?"

I almost drop the phone in my shock. After fumbling with it for a few moments, I press it to my ear firmly. "Annie?"

"Katniss? Are you alright? I heard noises-"

"I'm fine, Annie. How are you? I haven't heard from you since- In a while." I refrain from mentioning Finnick's name.

Annie doesn't seem to notice my slip-up. "I'm alright. Its been too long."

I'm still bewildered by the fact that Annie is calling. "Oh, well, is something wrong?"

"Oh, no no. I was actually calling for Peeta since this is his the phone number he gave me, but I was going to call you too anyways."

"Oh? Why's that?" I push down the feelings of embarrassment. I shouldn't feel that way, not now when I've told Peeta how I feel about him.

But I still haven't told anyone else. Except Haymitch, but only because he already suspected it.

"I-I was wondering if you'd like to come visit me and Finn in District 4 for Christmas. A party," she says quietly. I almost don't hear her, she's so quiet.

At first, I'm surprised. If Annie is calling me and Peeta, she must be lonely. But not only that. It perhaps also means that she doesn't blame us for Finnick's death. I feel a pang of sadness when I think of Finnick, but I know I owe it to him to spend Christmas with his family when he can't.

"Of course, we'll be there, Annie."

She seems startled. "Oh! Well, that's good. You can come to 4 in a few days. I-I'll send someone to pick you up from the train station."

"Okay." I briefly remind myself not to mail Annie and Finn's presents. "We'll be there."

"Alright. Good bye, Katniss. It... it was nice to hear from you again." She sounds faint. Perhaps she's sinking back into being lost. I immediately feel guilty, but I return the farewell and place the phone back on the machine.

Peeta looks at me expectantly.

"Looks like we can forget the tree," I say. "We're going to 4 for Christmas."


	43. Chapter 41: Shop

_HI :D Yes, finally, an update. I've been really busy and, surprisingly, I actually got writer's block. ._. *shame* of course, I managed to build a bridge and get over it, but still, sorry for keeping you guys waiting! Enjoy!_

Chapter 41 

Peeta and I are at the Hob, shopping for last minute gifts for the Odairs, when we run into Cinna the next day. Peeta slides easily into conversation with my stylist as I slip away, taking the opportunity to look for Peeta's Christmas present.  
I walk around through the crowds, glancing around at the vendor stalls with mild interest. What really gets my attention is the Hob itself, however. Its been weeks since Peeta and I had come here last but so much has been done to the Hob, its almost unrecognizable. The roof has been completed, reinforced with large metal beams instead of the old rotting wooden ones we originally had. Apparently, it had been incredibly helpful just as the snow began to fall and helped insulate the warmth as people flooded in from the cold.

The Hob is nice now. Homely. Its comfort almost makes me forget how it was nothing but a pile of debris only months ago. A small smile plays at my lips when I think of the bakery and how its doing the same- rising from the ashes, renewed.

I continue to push my way through the sea of people, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible. I didn't want people to stop me. To ask how I'm doing. To tell me how it is their dream to meet the Mockingjay.

That girl doesn't exist anymore.

Its a miracle I haven't been stopped by the time I reach the end of the first row of stalls. I immediately spot Greasy Sae, stirring a large kettle of stew with her trademark wooden spoon. She looks up, her face lighting up when she spots me. I wave and walk over to greet her.

"Hi, Sae."  
"You're looking a whole lot better," she says, her eyes crinkling at the edges as she smiles.  
I can't help guilt that comes up at those words. The last time she saw me was when I was at my worst. Before she trusted Peeta and Haymitch to take care of me. I must have put her through Hell and back, trying to keep a person who didn't want to live anymore alive.

Gratitude surges up then. "Thank you," I blurt out. "For everything."

She only smiles more. "It wasn't a problem at all," she soothes. She probably knows the emotional wreck I'm becoming just by remembering how bad off I was. "I was glad to be the one to do it. You went through so much for all of us, dear. I don't think any amount of care would be enough to repay you."

"You don't owe me," I protest. "I should be the one with debts to pay to every single person here who lost-"

She simply shakes her head stopping me. "I don't like where your thoughts are going, child," she says simply, scooping out some stew in a bowl. "Blaming yourself isn't going to change how thankful me and every person in the nation is for everything you've done."  
I look away uncomfortably. But before I can dwell on my own thoughts, a warm bowl of stew is placed in front of me. "Here, taste this," Sae orders gently, her eyes twinkling. As I take the spoon she hands me, she clears her throat. "So how have you two been?"

I almost sputter over the warm liquid. "W-what?"

"You and the baker's son," she says, shooting me an amused glance. "You've been a lot better lately. I can only think that its because of him. I can't imagine you being so alive because of that old drunk of a neighbor you have."

I almost laugh then at her description of Haymitch, but I'm too busy trying to figure out how to reply.

Sae seems to realize that I'm struggling to put my feelings into words and gives me a teasing look. "Ah, so is that how it is?"

I'm mortified. "No! We're just... we... we haven't gotten that far," I say finally. Its the truth. And I trust Sae. Even though she's the number one gossip monger of the entire District, I know she would never say anything that would wind up hurting me. We've known each other far too long. Traded so many squirrels and wild dogs that I can't even count how many she has bought from me.

Sae smiles then, the mischief disappearing from her eyes. "That's good, Katniss," she says truthfully. "You take good care of the boy, you hear? He's a good soul."

"I will," I promise without hesitation. The determination to prove myself, to show that I am indeed going to stay by Peeta's side, returns with a burning irritation. It seems like almost every person in the District thinks I'm just going to abandon Peeta.

Sae's eyes glint. Is she proud? "I never doubted you," she says, taking my now-empty bowl from my hands. "How was it?"

"Do I want to know what you put in there?" I say.

She laughs. "Probably not. If you caught it, you'd know." She leans over the counter then. "I need some more meat, and the only one I can count on getting it at a fair price from is you. Think you could go hunting once a week at least?"

"Of course," I agree immediately. The first step to proving to everybody that I was actually with Peeta would be that we were both healed enough to resemble some kind of normalcy.

I see Peeta making his way through the crowd, reminding me that I haven't found his present yet, so I bid goodbye to Sae and promise to bring her the Christmas gifts tomorrow before we depart for 4 and slip away.

It quickly becomes apparent that I can't seem to find anything that Peeta would want for Christmas. It is even more difficult trying to remain unrecognized by anyone around me, but I continue my search for another few minutes before coming up to a stall tucked in the corner of the Hob.

It is apparent that this is a Capitol merchant, unusual for District 12. However, things are changing. Perhaps District 12 is no longer thought of as the most pathetic in the nation, especially since me and Peeta reside here.

The woman at the stall reminds me of Cinna, however. She is dressed in a dark evergreen dress, one that is simple yet elegant. Her skin is the shade of a muted copper, unmarred by the brilliant colors that Capitol citizens usually wear. The only make-up she wears, like Cinna, is a rusty red eyeliner that seems to highlight her amber eyes.

She acknowledges my presence with a simple nod, which both surprises me and pleases me. At least one person here can treat me like a regular person instead of a celebrity. "Looking for something in particular?" Her voice is soft, but firm.

"Just browsing-" I begin when my eye catches on a golden locket. Its simple, very small. Its nothing special as a matter of fact. But it gives me an idea. "Do you do custom orders?"

Her lip tilts up. "Depends what you want to have done."

I pick up the locket, only to find the chain attached to the table. "People here are still not as wealthy as people in the other Districts," she explains. "Half of the time, people only come over here to try and snatch the merchandise."

"I'm not going to do that." I turn the locket over in my fingers, contemplating. "Can I place an order?"

She picks up a notepad and rips off a piece of paper. "Here. Write down whatever you want."

"Anything?"

"Just stay practical," she says flatly. "I've had people come here ordering some pretty strange creations."

I quickly write down the details that I want for Peeta's locket, handing the paper over to her when she puts down the piece of jewelry she is working on.

"That's it?" She looks curious.

I nod, puzzled.

"Alright, it'll be done this evening." She slips the paper into a box before returning to her work.

"So soon?"

"I work fast," she says. "I'll see you at 8."

I find myself growing to like this woman. She's firm. Strong. Headstrong almost. But sensible and level-headed. "What's your name?"

This makes her lips tilt back up. "I'll tell you when you come back."

I nod before I see Peeta again. He seems to be searching for me, turning his head this way and that while trying to peer over everyone's heads.

I duck under, into the crowd, before maneuvering through behind Peeta. I grab his hand, causing him to turn around in surprise before he realized it is me. A grin breaks out across his face and he says, "Ready to go?" He holds up the parcels in his arms, wrapped in colorful paper for the Odairs. I nod, pulling him after me out of the Hob.

Peeta's hand is still locked with mine as we walk home, but surprisingly, it doesn't feel wrong being there. "Did you get everything you need for 4?" he asks.

I smile, thinking of Peeta's Christmas gift.

"Almost."


	44. Chapter 42: Locket

_Hi! I've been plenty busy with midterms and papers and I probably will have a hard time finishing the next chapter too, but here's Chapter 42! Enjoy! Review to let me know what you're thinking!_

Chapter 42

Peeta tells me that he has work at the bakery to do, which leaves me the perfect time slot to go back to the Hob and pick up his present. He is sitting with me on the couch sketching quietly while I watch him with mild interest. I'm not looking so much at what he's drawing, but instead at the concentration etched so deeply into his features when he's concentrating hard at the task at hand.

"Thom decided to include upgrades to the bakery's structure," he explains, not looking up as he tilts his head and scratches his pencil along the paper. "Its supposed to help it hold up against earthquakes and whatnot. Stronger infrastructure, I think."

He holds up his sketch then, revealing a picture of Buttercup, who happened to be lying on the floor directly in front of us in the exact same position. I laugh.

"I'll be a little late for supper," he says then, handing me the sketch pad and pencil before getting to his feet. "Thom wants to go over the plans, even though I'm sure he'll do a good job no matter what."

I nod in agreement. I'm pleased that the bakery project is going so well for Peeta. However, even though it could easily be opened before the new year, Peeta had postponed the opening because of our extended trip to the Odair's to celebrate the holidays.

"I never apologized," I say quietly. Peeta turns then, confused.

"Apologize for what?" he asks, moving to stand near me.

I shuffle in embarrassment. "For the one time you were late," I end up mumbling. And to be completely honest, I really didn't expect Peeta to have been doing anything else that day but mourn his dead family. But seeing that girl with him had set me off.

His hand moves to caress my cheek. "You mean when I was talking to that girl in front of the bakery weeks ago?" I nod, flushing.

"I don't usually act like that," I say. "I was just worried about you and when I saw you with her, I didn't know what to do."

Peeta smiles a little at this. "Well, the reason why I was a few hours late was because some workmen stopped by to scout the property for building plans. Thom came by later to talk to me about costs and sign some more contracts. I really didn't mean to stay out that long."

Shame burns my ears. It took weeks for me to even apologize to him and I feel like some scolding mother who reprimands her child for disappearing.

Peeta takes my silence as a cue to go on. "As for the girl, I'm not even sure who she is. She came by and told me she remembered me from school. Apparently, she was impressed that we had made it out of two Games and a war. She thought I filled out more than when I was on the school wrestling team!"

This ignites a foreign irritation in me. Is that all she cared about when talking to Peeta? The size of his muscles? What about everything he's been through? Did she not ask him how he's doing? If the nightmares he experiences at night have ceased? If his episodes are any easier to deal with?

This must show on my face because Peeta's hand moves along my jaw and trails down my neck. A shiver rips through me. Desire.

"But she doesn't get me. Not like you do, Katniss." His hand rests right along my exposed collarbone, the heat from his palm seemingly increasing my heart rate ten-fold.

I don't know who leans in first, but Peeta's lips graze across mine lightly. This soft touch blows me away. Its so powerful. The feelings that I have for him. And I'm desperate to understand exactly what they mean.

He doesn't seem to mind at all when I press my lips harder against his. Nor does he seem to mind when my hands move up to rest against his chest.

He also doesn't seem to mind the knock at the door that interrupts the nice fog that settles over my mind when his arms wrap around my waist.

I break away but he doesn't release me, keeping his arms around me. "Do you want to get that?" I ask breathlessly, struggling to straighten my thoughts.

"Not particularly," he breathes back, pressing his forehead to mine.

I reluctantly pull away from his hold, immediately missing the feel of his warm arms. Peeta stares after me, his lips parted as he returns his breathing to normal. His words have such an effect on me that I know if I didn't answer the door now, we could probably ignore the whole world and not have a single care.

When the door swings open, I'm half surprised to find Gale and Cinna standing on my doorstep. Gale smiles at me knowingly, his grey eyes warm. My own lips tilt up to match him.

"Sorry, I hope we weren't interrupting anything," Cinna says quietly, but Peeta shakes his head before I can respond.

"Not at all. I was just about to go confirm some details with Thom," he says, grabbing his scarf from the coatrack. "You're always welcome here."

As he makes for the doorway, my hand reaches out and grazes his shoulder, making him pause and shoot me a questioning look. I'm almost embarrassed to say the words, but part of me is also worried about him and just wants to keep him safe. "Be careful."

He breaks into a grin, his blue eyes affectionate. "Always," he responds before he leans over and places a kiss on my cheek. He disappears out the door shortly after, leaving my cheeks flushing red hot where his lips had touched me.

Gale is smirking at me when I turn back around. His eyes are teasing but they speak out to me in amusement. _Told you._

"So, what are you two doing here?" I ask nonchalantly, trying to change the subject.

"I was helping Cinna today," Gale says. It never occurred to me that Gale would volunteer his time to help Cinna. They seem like such polar opposites. But when I remember that this is a new Gale, a Capitol Gale, I scold myself. Gale has a new job now. I'm not quite sure what it is that Paylor stationed him here to do, but if he's helping Cinna while he's here, then I can be nothing but grateful for his help.

"We were just dropping by to check in," Cinna says.

"I have to go pick something up from the Hob. We can talk on the way there," I say. I make sure that the house is locked before I meet them outside.

Gale wanders off back to his own house with the excuse that he is tired from working earlier. I don't ask why. He just wants to give me and Cinna some privacy.

Cinna walks beside me calmly, his presence soothing. "How are you and Peeta?" he asks.

"Good." I don't like to elaborate. Aren't relationships supposed to be private?

Cinna smiles. "Its nice to see you two together and well off."

"Yes," I admit. And its true. I feel better than I had in years. Perhaps ever since my dad had died. And it is all thanks to Peeta.

We arrive at the Hob, busier than ever with people rushing to get dinner from the food vendors. Cinna follows me through the crowd with little difficulty as I make a beeline for the jewelry merchant.

She's still working on yet another piece, her thin fingers working in almost a blur as she bends and molds the trinket in her hand with strange tools. She doesn't even look up when I arrive. "Katniss."

I nod as she puts down the medallion she had been working on so diligently. She looks up then, but she seems startled when she notices that Cinna is accompanying me. "This is Cinna," I introduce, but I know it probably isn't necessary because he had been televised nationally for his 'girl on fire' theme during my Games.

Cinna is staring at the ground and I don't have to ask him to know that he still feels ashamed of his amputations. I can almost feel his embarrassment radiating from him, its so strong.

"You look very nice." Cinna's head shoots up at her compliment. There's absolutely no sarcasm or pity in her words. Just honesty and truth.

She holds his gaze evenly. "I'm Brita." I'm surprised that my normally fluent stylist is speechless, but the moment doesn't last long because Brita pushes a box towards me. "I hope its what you wanted. If not, I can make adjustments."

I open the box as she turns to Cinna and falls into small polite conversation with him. The polished locket shines in the Hob's lighting, reflecting tiny dazzling beams from its surface. The edge contains a smooth ridge that frames a golden Mockingjay emblazoned on the surface. The Mockingjay appears almost completely realistic, frozen in mid-flight with an arrow in its beak. I had contemplated whether or not to change the arrow to a paintbrush. However, I selfishly wanted Peeta to have a piece of me with him at all times, even if it was just represented through the arrow the Mockingjay held.

I flipped the locket open, my fingers unlatching the catch easily. It is empty inside, a space that needed to be filled with a photo of some sort. However, the intricate designs on the edges astound me. Brita must have put a lot of effort into this locket. The details never fail to astound me. Flame-like marks cover the locket, surrounding the Mockingjay. It almost would appear as if Peeta were wearing a smoldering golden pendant rather than a simple locket.

Its more than I could have ever hoped for. And I know Peeta will love it.

I turn to Brita to find her and Cinna engrossed in conversation. She seems to maintain her pleasant, calm demeanor as she talks with him. An occasional smile graces her lips, giving her a charming quality as well that I've never seen before. However, its Cinna who gets my attention the most. He's alive again. He stands taller, his eyes shine with life. His chin held high. He almost looks like the confident man I met in the Prep Room.

My gawking must catch their attention because Brita reaches over and takes the money I have placed on the table. "Thanks. Any plans for the holidays?"

"I'm headed out to 4," I say.

Brita smiles. "We were just talking about Christmas time. It seems Cinna was about to spend Christmas alone with his assistants, so I offered to keep him company."

Cinna nods, but I can see the delight on his face. Even when we say good-bye to Brita, he seems to glow.

I smile to myself. Perhaps its not just me who is discovering the opportunity to heal and rediscover.


	45. AN: No Mistake This Time!

HI :D I'm getting lots of awesome reviews and its making me incredibly happy that you all are supporting this story :) I hope it climbs even higher in popularity as I add more chapters!

However, I did receive one that caught my attention. Here we are:

"Have a concern. Katniss supposed to be confined to District 12. Although I missed something, I didn't read nothing about Katniss been released. Can you enlightning me about this?"

This shall be revealed in the next chapter! I know I'm so slow at posting and writing is slow going with my college work putting me out time most days, but I promise there will be some awesome stuff coming soon! Never fear, I didn't mess up :P (yet)

A few noteworthy reviews that really had me grinning:

'so finnickin awesome keep goin i love your story it is one of my all time favorite'

'This is so perfect. The way you write fits so seamlessly with the books. You are so inclusive when it comes to elements from the novels. I look forward to reading each new chapter. Please continue writing, I'm loving every bit of When Flames Die Down..'

'I don't read fan-fictions let alone leave comments, but here I feel I have to! After reading the end of Mockingjay I was left rather disappointed and unsatisfied at the way it ended and how rushed Peeta and Katniss's relationship seemed to evolve! We never got to see how they dealt with the aftermath of the war and how they started to rebuild their lives together, out of the public eye. Then i came across your writing and I love it! It fits so perfectly with the book and the characters that I actually believe this is what happened! You got each character spot on! Hope you continue this to satisfy my hunger games addiction for a little longer! :D (also...sighhhh, i needs me a Peeta!) XD'

Whoever wrote that last one, it REALLY made my day and week. Perhaps even month. It completely relit my passion for writing and its awesome to see people who really do get it. :D BTW, I will be posting more chapters on "Snared" (the Gale fanfic) but expect updates soon!

-V


	46. Chapter 43: Packed

_HELLO. I am so so sooooo sorry for not posting sooner, but I have been ridiculously busy with midterms, papers, and all that junk that quarter-system colleges decide to throw at you before break. :( I HAVE MISSED YOUR REVIEWS. I feel terrible about leaving you guys hanging about District 4 but it will be progressing *drumroll* JUST IN TIME FORO CHRISTMAS :D YAY, CHRISTMAS WITH THE ODAIRS (: Surprise surprise :P Anywho, enjoy! Read, rate, review, ask questions, shoot me messages, send me cupcakes. I don't relaly care, I just love you guys (:_

Chapter 43

I toss a few of my shirts from the closet towards the bed, noting that District 4 is known for having very mild winters and trying to figure out what else to pack. We depart in only a few hours and I haven't packed a thing except for the Christmas gifts.

"You know, if you folded them neatly and put them into your bag, you'd be able to find your things more easily." I turn to see Peeta, who is holding onto one of the shirts I had tossed towards the bed. He walks over to my bag, folds it neatly, then sits on the bed, placing the folded shirt next to him.

"Worry about your own things, Peeta," I say, turning back to the closet to pull out a long-sleeved shirt.

He smiles as I walk over and begin to stuff my travel bag with my unfolded clothes. "I've already packed everything I need." He pauses to snake an arm around my waist and pull me closer. "Except you."

I twist out of his grasp easily, trying to ignore the blush that rises to my cheeks every time he says something like that. I can almost feel Peeta's glee at my embarrassment emanate from behind me but I'm not embarrassed because of his actions.

No. I'm embarrassed because of the words that almost slipped out of my mouth.

_Anywhere you go is where I need to be. _

Even though Peeta and I are technically taking our time with our relationship, I can't help but still feel awkward when expressing my feelings for him. It never sounds as fluent or poetic as when Peeta says it. It hardly sounds romantic at times. Its almost rushed, something said in the heat of the moment.

And I hate it.

Because I'm _not_ just saying it because of a moment. I'm saying it because I truly do care about him.

Peeta's hands slip around my waist again and I let him hold me as I finish zipping my bag. When I finish, his hand reaches out grabs it before he carries it over to where our other bags are. "Is this all of it?"

I nod. "The presents are in the crates over there." Peeta places my bag next to his before turning to me.

"Are you alright?"

I give him a strange look. "What makes you think I'm not?"

"Nothing. I'm just worried. About how you feel about District Four and Annie."

It unnerves me how Peeta manages to pinpoint every single insecurity that I have. He always seems to find that apprehension, no matter how hard I try to conceal it, and urge me to talk to him about it- something I don't normally feel comfortable doing with other people. Keeping it to myself never seemed to be a problem. But now that Peeta and I are actually communicating with each other, promising to help each other, I'm obligated to tell him the truth at all times, no matter how hesitant we are or how the other will react.

"Its Finnick," I confess after a few silent heartbeats. Peeta doesn't look surprised at all when I say this. "I..."

I can't continue because I know that I won't be able to convince myself that its alright. Because it isn't alright that Finnick is dead and I'm still here.

But Peeta just wraps his arms around me and kisses the top of my head as I struggle to control the raging emotions surging through me. "Don't cry," he says softly.

His hold around me calms me enough so he can pull back and look me in the eye. "We're going to take care of them," he promises. "For Finnick. He was a great man and it'll take both of us to even try to fill the legacy he's left. But don't blame yourself for his death, Katniss. He knew it was going to be this way right when he signed up to be on the squad. And he'll never regret that decision as long as we take care of Annie and Finn."

I can only nod stiffly because if I do anything more, I know the tears will come pouring out. Peeta only takes me into his arms again and I bury my head into the crook of his neck, holding him tightly.

Its the knock at the door that breaks us apart. Peeta smiles to me as he goes to answer it. "This seems to happen a lot, doesn't it?" he laughs as he opens the door. Gale stands at our bedroom door, looking a bit uncomfortable.

"Sorry about the intrusion," he apologizes quickly before I can say anything. Even Peeta looks a little stunned as well. "But I'm here to transport you all to the train station."

"All? I thought it was just me and Peeta?" I say.

"You, Peeta, and Haymitch," Gale corrects before picking up the heavy crate as if it were weightless. "All three of you were invited to the Odairs."

Peeta laughs as I scowl. "He can't be that bad if Annie is willing to tolerate his presence for a few days," he chuckles as he grabs our bags and leads the way down the stairs. Gale grins as he follows after Peeta, leaving me to train behind, locking up the house and shutting off the lights.

As I reach the open front door, I realize that I hear Peeta and Gale talking as they lift the baggage into the car Gale had been authorized to use. I remain hidden behind the front door as I strain to hear what they're saying.

"-a good time in Four." Peeta sounds cheerful as I hear the thump of one of the present crates being loaded into the vehicle.

"I'm sure you will," Gale agrees. "What are your plans?"

"Whatever Katniss wants to do," Peeta says truthfully. He shuts the trunk with a thud.

"Is she alright? About Four?" Gale sounds sincerely curious, but Peeta only sighs.

"She feels badly about Finnick Odair."

Irritation sparks in me. I don't like how Peeta is telling Gale about this. I don't really know why. Perhaps its because I only feel comfortable trusting Peeta with this information. Its such a personal, delicate topic that I dislike even thinking about. Divulging that information to Peeta shows just how much I trust him.

And now he's confiding to Gale.

"I've only heard what happened to Odair, but from what has been said, it wasn't her fault at all," Gale snorts, but Peeta sounds frustrated.

"She still blames herself though. Going to Four is a huge step for her, and I know she feels like she's obligated to take care of Finnick's family for him. But I wish I could just take away her guilt completely."

My irritation just moments before evaporates then. Now I feel guilty about Peeta. He's only been trying to help me. He doesn't have anyone to talk to about me and my problems. Haymitch isn't exactly the most welcoming when it comes to personal problems. He has his own to deal with.

But Peeta has been trying extremely hard to understand me. To work with me and help the broken Mockingjay fly again.

I wonder briefly how understanding I seem to Peeta. Haymitch has mentioned on numerous occasions how it seems like I'm the one kicking Peeta around and mistreating him. But how fair is that? Can't he tell how much I'm trying?

Apparently not. And neither can anyone else.

"I'm sure Finnick died to save her for a reason. She's a very special girl, Peeta."

"I just wish she knew how special," he replies.

I grimace, but decide I've heard enough. I'm just about to open the door and step out when I hear Gale mumble, "I'm sorry for everything."

Peeta is quiet for a moment. "You've done nothing but help us-" he begins hesitantly, but Gale cuts him off. "I mean for all the things before. Trying to take her from you."

"I don't blame you," Peeta says quietly, but I can tell he's lying through his teeth.

"I heard everything from Haymitch. I must've been a thorn in your side," Gale comments blandly. I peek around the door to find Peeta staring intently at the ground. "When you're in love with somebody, all you want to do is give them everything," is Peeta's response when he finally says something.

I stride outside then, shutting the door firmly behind me so both of them look up in surprise. After turning the key firmly in the lock, I walk over to both of them.

But my eyes are only for Peeta as I stretch up and place a firm, but lingering kiss on his lips.

Its probably not the most appropriate thing to do. Especially not when Gale is standing only a short distance away.

But its appropriate for the moment. Peeta's words do more than just say things. They touch my heart. They reach me.

I pull away when Peeta's hand reaches down and grips mine tightly. "Ready to go?"

Speechless, he simply nods, his brilliantly blue eyes blinking rapidly. I almost laugh. It never ceases to amaze me that whenever I show affection to Peeta, he's lost his silver tongue.

I turn to Gale, exchanging an amused glance with him. His eyes shine back at me in the sunlight.

"We better hurry. You don't want to miss your train."


	47. Chapter 44: Confined

Chapter 44

We meet Haymitch at the train station, who happened to be escorted by none other than Effie Trinket instead of Gale. He sits on his baggage with a scowl while Effie scuttles around nervously beside him. She's holding her damn clipboard. With a schedule attached to it, no doubt.

When Peeta and I come into view, she brightens immediately and rushes over, her ridiculously tall high-heel shoes clicking furiously against the concrete. Peeta puts down his bags and gives Effie a warm welcoming hug.

"Peeta! Katniss, its so nice to see you both!" She pulls away from Peeta to give me a hug as well. Its brief, but I still feel only warmth towards Effie nonetheless.

"Its good to see you, too, Effie," Peeta says as he steps forward to wrap an arm around my shoulders. "What are you doing here in District 12?"

"I can answer that," Haymitch growls from where he sits. His eyes are cold as he glares at Effie, shocking me. "She's here to keep you here. You're not getting on that train."

I flick my gaze over to the Capitol woman, wondering if its true, but her guilty expression says it all.

"Is it true?" Peeta asks, disbelief in his voice.

"Does it look like she's lying?" I turn on Peeta, my frustrations about the Capitol returning and unfortunately laying waste to Peeta. "How could you be so oblivious? She's obviously another pawn of the Capitol sent here to control us to do their-"

"Enough!" Haymitch snaps at me, but I whip around and match his harsh tone.

"No! I've had enough of these games! All of them!"  
"Katniss, dear," Effie interrupts quietly, which stops both me and Haymitch from leaping for each other's throats.

"You're confined to District 12 by orders of the Capitol."

At that moment, I feel like a trapped animal, surrounded by hunters. Or perhaps one of those rabbits caught in one of Gale's snares. All I know is that I feel nothing but adrenaline and shock.

"We're going to 4." Peeta's voice is rigid, as if he's trying to soothe everyone's tense nerves. "Annie is expecting us."

"You can go, Peeta." Effie sounds tired, as if she doesn't want to do this as much as I don't want her to. "Its just Katniss who must remain here in 12."

"Why?" Peeta's voice grows a little. Anyone can tell that the combination of his confusion and just plain being upset is having an effect on his emotions. "Because she did everything she was supposed to do? Because she's a hero-"  
"She's a tried criminal, Peeta," Effie explains quietly, even though I've heard this explanation before. "Shooting Coin has resulted in her sentence of remaining in 12 until further orders are given."

"This is ridiculous!" Peeta's hands clench into fists as his arm slips away from my shoulder. "You can't seriously be trying to keep her here! She's done nothing wrong! If she hadn't shot Coin, we would all be right back where we were, reaping children and staying as poor of a District as we were when Snow was alive."  
"That may be true," Haymitch snaps, "but like it or not, the girl stays."

"I'm not staying. I have to go see Annie," I insist.

Effie looks flustered. "Katniss, dear, I can't do anything about it-"

"What's going on here?"

Haymitch sneers as Cinna approaches, Brita by his side. "Well, looks like the gang is all here," he snorts, but Cinna ignores him.

"Oh, thank goodness you're here, Cinna." Effie sounds flustered. "You see, Katniss can't leave the District."

"Because of her sentence?"

"Of course! Oh, I'm so glad you understand!" She then proceeds to throw her arms around Cinna, which is followed shortly by a narrow-eyed glare from Brita.

"Are you insane? She has done nothing wrong," Brita says quietly, but Effie only pulls away from Cinna, straightening her dress.

"I'm not in charge of these orders," Effie clarifies. Cinna looks over at her. "Then you should be," he responds crisply. "Your organization skills and judgment could be put to good use in the Capitol. Do you believe that after all you've done, you haven't been recognized?" He shakes his head and turns to Brita. "Can I use your phone please?"

She nods and reaches into a leather satchel hanging at her waist, pulling out a small radio-like device. "Its a cell phone," she explains at my puzzled expression. "Its like the phone in your house, but we can use it anywhere we please."

Cinna quickly tells her the number as she punches it in for him, then proceeds to hold it up to his ear.

Peeta is pacing a few feet away, resembling a caged animal who is nothing but trapped. He meets my gaze momentarily when he glances up for a moment then beckons me over to him.

He takes my hands as I approach. "You're getting on that train," he promises quietly, but I shake my head.

"Peeta, we can't provoke the government anymore. What if its seen as an act of rebellion? Again? We're obviously prime suspects if something were to happen-"

"Nothing's going to happen, Katniss," Peeta argues gently. "We deserve to fly under the radar. We're still people all the same."

"I just don't think its a good idea to pull off another stunt and attract publicity," I whisper quickly to him. Peeta looks puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I don't want people to be involved with us," I explain. I look off to the side at the steam hissing from the train. I don't know what to think now that Peeta wants to defy the Capitol and just head off to District 4.

Its true. I do want to go see Annie and I feel like I would be letting Finnick down by remaining here in 12. However, haven't I already caused enough trouble as is? I'm done with the games and I'm certainly done with trouble because it brings me nothing but despair and sorrow.

"This isn't the Katniss I know," Peeta murmurs, surprising me. His eyes are hard, but they aren't angry. They're disappointed. "What is this? This isn't you! Rolling over and submitting like some kicked puppy? Letting yourself get pushed around like some sort of scum that's not worth-"

"Because I am some sort of scum that's not worth it," I spit back at him, my frustration boiling over. "I grew up in the Seam, remember? Or was it all just a bad dream that every night my family went hungry? That people collapsed out of starvation? Died in the mines?"

He's looking at me with pain in his eyes now, but I'm too out of it to care. I was beyond that point ever since I was pulled into that damn rebellion and now I'm paying the price ten times over.

"I didn't ask for any of this, Peeta! In fact, if the Games never happened, I probably would've lived a very very different life than the one I'm living in now! And maybe I'd still have the people and things around me that I truly cared about!"

He flinches as if I had struck him.

A hand touches my shoulder distracting me from Peeta's hurt expression. Brita looks at me with a raised eyebrow but says nothing except, "There's someone on the phone for you."

Her extended hand holds the phone out as I take it. I press the cold metal device up to my ear. "Hello?"

"Ms. Everdeen? Its Paylor." Paylor's voice comes out tiredly.

"Er, hi." I mentally make a note to work on my phone conversation skills.

"Cinna called. He says you wish to travel to District 4?"

"Yes, that's correct." I say.

"You're legally confined to District 12-"

"I need to go," I insist desperately. "You don't understand how much this means to me. Don't you want to pay back the debt we all owe to Finnick Odair?"

She's silent and I take it as a cue to continue. "He was prostituted by the Capitol! He did it to save Annie and his unborn child! He gave up his future, not just for me but for everyone else who was part of that damn rebelliion! Don't you understand how much we owe it to him to care for Annie and Finn in 4?"

"You can't go back to 4, Katniss," Paylor sighs after a long moment.

"Why not? Give me one good reason why not," I demand harshly.

Paylor hesitates. The phone in my hand suddenly feels cold and heavy.

"Because we found Mr. Odair."


	48. AN: Review Responses 1

_HI GUYS (:_

_For starters, I want to thank each and every one of you for reading this fanfic! I'm not quite up to where I want to be with followers and favorites yet, but I hope I'll get there soon! Its amazing to see how much you guys love reading this and receive so much feedback over it._

_Speaking of feedback-_

_You guys have been sending me tons of awesome reviews and some slightly confusing ones, but this is why I put these 'chapters' up (to make up for no ANs at the beginning of each chapter)! Here's some good ones:_

_"OH. MY. GOD. BOMBSHELL! OH SHIZZNAPPS! WTF! FIRST CINNA NOW  
FINNICK!? WHOAH!  
I'm not yelling at you or anything! I'm certainly not mad! But WHOAH! I feel  
like you feel that since you now have the power in ur hands you can right  
everything that went wrong. LOVE YA FOR THAT! YOU GOT THE POWER! Oh my gosh!  
YAAAAAAYYYY! EEEEEEPP!  
Ok this chapter would've been amazing- because of the bombshell and all-  
except for the part in which Katniss basically tells peeta she doesn't truly  
care about him. That was cold. NOT CUTE! However I respect you as a writer and  
the decisions you make to make this story the best it can be and I'll live.  
For now. But y'all better get this shizz fixed up!  
Seriously though, I LOVE this story. LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOOOOOOOOVE it!"_

_-Yes, Finnick is back! OORAH. I think that Finnick's death was premature in 'Mockingjay' without much of an explanation (like Cinna's disappearance) so why not? There may be some nasty nasty plot twists regarding Finnick, but that's left to be seen... HOWEVER, regarding the Katniss thing- Yep, she basically emotionally backhanded Peeta across the face in her spur-of-the-moment rage :( but that's the thing about emotionally-unstable relationships and Katniss/Peeta aren't exactly stable ._._

_And I got a lot of these:_

"No fair you left me on a cliff hanger x"  
"OMG OMG OMG OMG WHAT! :'O"  
"That's what you leave us with? Aaah!"  
"WHHATTTT?! but yay Fin lives?"  
"Finnick?! He's alive?! Possibly? Please let him be alive? I love him so much."  
":HOLY PLOT TWIST! you cant leave us hanging man ._. update soon pleaaseee lol"  
"omg please keep writing i hate/love these crazy cliffhangers keep goin you are finnickin awesome"

_-HAHA I love you all (: Yep, I try to keep my chapters to about 1500 words each (it has grown from 800 words!), but that may be expanded to about 2000 since I'm having a hard time developing good plots without the extra word count. _

_And with that, I will leave you all wondering what happened to Mr. Odair! (: Update will be posted sometime in the next week or so, so stay posted!_

_-V_


	49. AN: MY SINCERE APOLOGIES (

**_I AM TERRIBLE._**

**_Yes, I know I disappeared for over... a month and a half (oh my- what the-?!) but I SWEAR I HAVE GOOD REASONS._**

**_First off, I went out of the country for a few week after I posted that last author's note. I had disappeared to the land of maple leaves, Mounties, and moose for 16 days. It was one of the longest times I've ever been without my laptop :( I couldn't publish a single thing! Not even a small chapter for Gale's Story. _**

**_Next off, and EPIC-LY more tragic, my hard drive on my laptop crashed right when I got back. If any of you are computer techies, you'll know that this wipes your computer pretty much CLEAN. I had lost all chapters of "When Flames Die Down" and "Gale's Story" in a spur in the moment hard drive failure. After raging harder than I think I ever have in my life, I convinced my mother to buy me a new laptop while I use the crippled laptop right now in front of me just to try and finish my online college schoolwork. _**

**_STUPID, RIGHT?_**

**_AND I APOLOGIZE :(_**

**_I shouldn't leave you guys hanging, but I promise you that I'm trying to recover ALL my work as soon as possible. My techie brother is trying to save those stories off my fried hard drive! I pray that the operation is successful :(_**

**_Anyways, I am hard at work figuring out where I left you guys off. I think its when Finnick was revealed to be found? Thank you for all your support and I'm sorry to those of you who have been diligently following this story with all your hearts :( I don't deserve your loyalty._**

**_-V_**


	50. Chapter 45: Laws

Chapter 45

Peeta barely has enough time to lunge for me and grab the phone before I have the chance to hurl it against the brick wall of the train station. Haymitch quickly pushes me away as I begin struggling, almost inhuman shrieks erupting from my throat. "Lies! More Capitol lies! After all I've done, you still want to feed me lies and expect me to believe them? Haven't you ruined me enough already?"

Effie looks startled and embarrassed, clutching at her clipboard desperately while glancing from side to side as if searching for an escape. Brita merely glances at Cinna, her face expressing no surprise at my violent reaction.

"Katniss, stop." Cinna's calm voice can do nothing for me now. The agony of Finnick's death crashes over me once again and it only empowers me against Haymitch's tightening grasp.

"No! He's dead! He's gone!"

The slow motion memories begin, slowly taking over my mind with dark tendrils as I struggle against Haymitch. But there's nothing you can do to fight your own mind.

Finnick's face appears before me, looking up at me from where he clings from the underground ladder. Sheer panic creates strained creases on his face as he hauls himself up another step and I can see a flash of white just below him. Mutts.

"Finnick!" I scream, as he pulls himself up another step, sweat pouring from his brow from his exhaustion.

He glances up upon hearing his name, just long enough for a white clawed hand to shoot up from the darkness and snag Finnick's leg. He cries out when the talons break his uniform and undoubtedly sink into his flesh.

"No!" I reach for my gun, but there isn't one at my side. Finnick's arms bulge as he fights to hang on, but his eyes are clouding with pain and terror.

"Katniss! Run!" Finnick's voice is tense, but the order is there. I can't bring myself to listen as I reach down and offer him my extended hand.

"Finnick! Grab my hand!"

He shakes his head and cries out as another clawed arm reaches out and locks around his waist. "Katniss, go! Get out of here!" He locks his gaze with mine before adding seriously, "I'm not going to make it."

A scream erupts from my chest as the mutts give a particularly strong tug on Finnick, who lets out another shout. His grip slips momentarily, but he hangs on tightly. There is no way he can turn on them and fight them all off. The sounds of more approaching mutts only tears at my heart as Finnick struggles to buy me time to escape.

He glares up at me fiercely. "You're the Mockingjay," he snarls. "You have a duty to me, the Rebellion, and to the future of Panem! You need to be the fire that continues burning. Because if you die at this very spot, the Rebellion is extinguished with you!"

My fingers dig into my skull in horror as he lets go with one arm and lashes out at a particularly powerful Mutt who tries to tug him into the depths of the sewer. He looks up at me, a grim smile plastered on his lips, before nodding dismissively. "Goodbye, Katniss. Tell Annie and our child that I love them both."

"Sweetheart, snap out of it!"

A strong hand grasps my shoulder and shakes me roughly, but it is removed just as quickly as it appears. "Haymitch, if you ever shake her like that again, I swear-"

"Boy, get back if you know what's good for you," Haymitch snaps irritably, but a grunt sounds immediately after his comment, leading me to believe that Peeta didn't take our mentor's advice too well. I keep my eyes clenched shut, too afraid to open them. If I open them, I know that all I will see is the nightmares and horrors of death and destruction.

"Katniss, dear! You're causing a scene!" Effie's shrill voice cuts through my flashback of Finnick's death, but she is quickly silenced by Cinna.

"Mr. Hawthorne, take her onto the train. The cab in the back is reserved for important Capitol officials, but it should be empty at the moment. It is to our disposal." He pauses and I can hear the faint sounds of Haymitch and Peeta scuffling on the train platform. "If you two want to accompany her, I suggest you follow suit and get on the train as well."

"But she is not allowed to leave the District-" Effie protests, but Cinna cuts her off.

"We'll deal with it later. We obviously have larger problems at hand than that."

"Than breaking the law?" Effie's bewildered voice betrays her fear of the Capitol, but Cinna ignores it.

"Hawthorne, hurry. The train leaves in 5 minutes."

I feel strong arms lace themselves under my legs and around my shoulders before I am lifted off the ground. The memories of Finnick have me immobilized in shock and grief that I can't bring myself to relax.

"Peeta, Haymitch. Both of you need to get the luggage and follow Gale. The attendants will be arriving soon, and I'll need to distract them before the train departs."

"Cinna!" Effie huffs angrily. "This is illegal! You are breaking the law!"

"We shall discuss this with Paylor when we arrive in Four," Cinna argues gently before Gale begins his ascent into the train car.

The cool winter air dissolves into a comforting warmth as the train door slides closed behind us. I feel Gale maneuvering carefully around the compartment before gently laying me down. I open my eyes to find myself on a long couch, just before Gale pulls a blanket from the compartment above our heads and shakes it open.

"Rest, Katniss," he murmurs as he drapes the soft fabric over my body.

I find myself succumbing to the darkness before I can even reply.

I awake to a low humming sound fairly close to my ear. I force my eyes open, blinking slowly as I bring myself to the present. The train car interior comes into focus as I take in a deep breath and heave myself onto one of my elbows.

The humming abruptly stops. "Hey, you're awake."

"Peeta-"

"Shh. How are you feeling?" He turns from where he had been sitting on the floor by the couch near my head. His brilliant blue eyes come into view as he gives me a concerned once-over. "You've been asleep for almost two hours."

"Two hours?" I raise my hand to my forehead, running it down my face. "Where are we now?"

Peeta reaches behind my head and hands me a glass of water. "We're halfway into District 11. The train is supposed to make a stop in District 8 before we continue."

"Will they stop us?" I ask, taking the water and tentatively sipping at cool liquid. My stomach still churns at the thought of the Capitol trying to stop me from reaching 4.

Peeta shrugs, before taking the glass from my outstretched hand. "I don't know. But we'll deal with it when we get there. You should probably keep resting."

"I'm fine," I insist, pushing myself upright. "I just want to know what's going on."

"Nothing's going on," Peeta snaps suddenly, startling me. But just as quickly as the comment comes out, regret appears on his face and he looks away abruptly. "Sorry," he mumbles, refusing to make eye contact with me.

It all comes back in that split second Peeta's remark slipped out.

_I didn't ask for any of this, Peeta! In fact, if the Games never happened, I probably would've lived a very very different life than the one I'm living in now! And maybe I'd still have the people and things around me that I truly cared about!_

Guilt immediately floods over me, followed by shame and embarrassment. Had I really said that to Peeta? Had I really just insinuated that he meant less than everything that I have lost in the rebellion?

"I should go." Peeta rises to his feet and shuffles towards the cab door quickly.

"Peeta. Wait." He pauses at the sound of my voice, but he doesn't turn to look at me. Instead, he remains very still, his hand perched on the door handle ready to open it and leave.

The very idea of Peeta just leaving nearly breaks my heart.

"Peeta." I wince at the pitiful tone of my voice. After all this time building myself back together with him, I still don't trust myself with my own emotions and dislike exposing them, even to Peeta.

But he must hear the desperation and insecurity in my voice that I feel about the way he's acting because his gaze flickers up for a fraction of a second.

"I-" I break off abruptly as a lump forms in my throat. I realize just how hurtful my words must have been to Peeta and just how much more dejected I would have been if he had said the exact same thing to me.

"Its fine, Katniss. I'll see you later." He doesn't pause as he pulls the door open and steps outside.

I don't let out the breath I didn't know I had been holding in until the door slides shut behind him.


	51. AN: Change in Story Rating!

Hi guys!

Thank you for being so patient with me the past four months. I've received very understanding and supportive private messages from some of you and it really has me trying to get all the fanfic back (:

Unfortunately, after repeated trips to numerous computer stores, no one was able to recover much more than the past 4 chapters I had written, so it was a sad ordeal to finally give up and toss it :( I think I cried a little bit too.

HOWEVER, this shall not hinder future progress. It took a while, but I've recompiled all the chapters from this site and another one I've been posting on, so now I should be back on track!

Now, for the biggie.

I AM CHANGING THE RATING OF THIS STORY FROM 'T' TO 'M'.

Why?

Because its time, that's why ;)

No, actually, I was really considering holding off on that kind of story for the sake of younger readers who perhaps wanted a pre-epilogue story that wasn't filled with lemons and smut and whatsitcalleds, but...

ITS A PART OF LIFE AND RELATIONSHIPS ): and Everlark are getting to the point where I think things need to change a little more to advance the plot (COUGHCOUGH HINTHINT)

Just a little forewarning! I will not be insulted if you refuse to read anymore (shield your virgin eyes, my friends!), but the story must go on!

Anywho, a little forecast for whats coming up in the near future:

1) A new chapter of 'Snared-Gale's Story' will be released sometime during the week! I realize that that one has also not been updated in a longgggggggg while as well (apologies to everyone who read that one as well :/)

2) WFDD will be updated sometime during the next two weeks (midterms and a visit from a friend are going to delay the chapter a bit!)

3) I may or may not begin a new fanfiction just to jumpstart me back into writing. How would you guys feel about a Haymitch fanfiction? I feel like he has a story that was left untouched :D

Love you all! Thanks for the support and reviews!

~V


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